


In Darkness We Trust

by MissAtropine



Series: The Diabolic Disobedience Department (Vol.2) [1]
Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Aemelia Vial (OC), Alchemy, Antichrist, Business Trip, Clergy, Dark Comedy, F/M, Familiars, Festivals, Gen, Horror, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Las Vegas, Nekid (OC), Occult, Original Character(s), Rebellion, Return, Revelations, Rock and Roll, Romance, Sexting, Sexual Tension, Smoking, Supernatural Elements, Swearing, The D.D.D, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-25 02:28:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30082104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissAtropine/pseuds/MissAtropine
Summary: "His Dark Excellency Papa Emeritus IV is cordially invited to speak at the bi-annual Killing Sun Festival about his recent ascension. The location of this event will be disclosed two weeks before May 22nd and must remain a secret between guests. All invitations permit a plus-one, but heavenly vessels are strictly prohibited."The fresh reign of Papa Emeritus IV is unprofessional and unwelcome to the Clergy. When an old flame returns to the Ministry, the inexperienced anti-pope starts to neglect his important responsibilities, spurring on chaos, supernatural encounters and an offbeat romance.
Relationships: Papa Emeritus IV/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Diabolic Disobedience Department (Vol.2) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2213331
Comments: 19
Kudos: 8





	1. Revival

**Author's Note:**

> Finally back with the start of Vol.2 ... thank you to anyone who has been patiently waiting.
> 
> As always, I'll be uploading chapters every couple of days. I hope you enjoy what's on the horizon, there's a lot more in store.
> 
> If you haven't read Vol.1, I highly suggest you do, but you are more than welcome to start here... welcome aboard, I hope you enjoy the ride :)
> 
> Special thanks to my significant other, who has always listened to my late night rambles and terrible ideas. :)

The sky was murky, overcast and unpleasant, even for a wintry afternoon in mid January. Frost glazed the dormant wheat fields and parched roots avoided the fields’ long, oblong soil patches where plants refused to grow. Despite the lack of growth, sisters – dressed in their thick black hooded habits – roamed one of the open fields, frayed handles of wicker baskets perched over their wrists. They had been sent from their Catholic convent  _\- which was less than a mile away -_ to clear the earth of weeds in preparation for the planting of fresh crops in February. Most of them were quiet and focused on their work, but others chirped to one another as they hunched over, finding enjoyment in their mundane, labour-intensive task by socializing with one another.

Too distracted by their work or the cheerful conversation, they were oblivious to a lone bird that had been circling overhead for quite some time. The crow had managed to keep itself flying above the group of chattering nuns for an impressive half an hour, and it occasionally tilted its head so that its glossy black eyes could wisely survey the land below. Its behaviour was so unusual that it was strange how the sisters had missed the soaring sight amongst the faded ash-like clouds, but they were content occupying themselves...

Their obliviousness persisted, even when one of the field’s impotent, dry patches of ominous soil subtly began to crack at its surface. The rectangular area of withered earth feebly trembled, the growth of dried wheat-grass and twisted roots that outlined its edges creaking as they tried to pitifully recede from the source of the rumble. The nuns continued to contentedly work, even when the crow let out a choked caw, its wings violently flapping before it sharply swooped downwards, confidently headed towards the simmering soil. Once it gracefully landed by the outskirts of the impotent patch, its dainty feet crunched over the cold, frosted ground and it circled around a few times before it found a decent position to stand in. It viewed the ominous rectangle of dirt with an air of wisdom and after shaking out its wings in order to get more comfortable... it stooped down, the tip of its shiny curved beak tapping the ground in three smooth actions. 

After the third tap it gracefully raised its head and observed the land expectantly, a subtle ribbon of black shimmering particles nonchalantly seeping out from its shadowy form to drift towards the crumbling soil... 

And like something had  _detected_ its quiet beak-taps... the patch of barren ground began to quake more violently.

The crow toppled a few steps back, its wings flapping to ensure it kept its balance, though it managed to keep its obsidian eyes on the trembling ground, captivated by what was occurring. When more and more crumbles of soil began to mount at the surface, spurting up from the deep recesses below like an earth fountain... the virtuous eyes of the care-free nuns were finally attracted. As more and more of the sisters turned, brows furrowed in confusion, their curiosity quickly turned to  _terror..._ pallid clenched fingers clawed from the thick contents of the grave, knuckles cracked and stained with crisped blood. The chipped ends of faded black fingernails scraped away at the surface like they were seeking purchase, and soon, they were successful, slender fingers desperately raking through the unforgiving earth.

The sisters found that they could only stare in horror as the wrists of the hands – which were circled with split strips of thick duct tape and friction burns - soon emerged from the ground, the fingers still viciously swiping away at the dirt in order to hoist up the rest of their body. The insides of pale forearms were noticeably soiled and red raw with intricate brands as they inhumanly scrambled to break free of their restrictive grave, the whistling, gravelly wheeze that soon followed spewing up white vapour as their hot, arid breath shot into the wintry air like a relieved jet of steam. Their scratchy wheezes persisted as they clambered from their allotted resting place, soil tumbling down from the creases of their folded shirt sleeves, which were tainted a dark bronze due the sludge of earth that had surrounded them for the past month.

The muscles in their arms tensed as the rest of their head finally surfaced, their soft, pallid complexion shrouded in a lively layer of black particles and grave dirt. Their eyes were deep sunken hollows in their respective eye-sockets, shadowy ribbons of energy spewing from the orifices of their face. Their burgundy hair was dishevelled and knotted into rag-like plaits by the sides of their head and they swung like pendulums as they locked their arms out beside them, pushing the ground in order to pull their chest from the grave. They expelled a grotesque, unholy wail as they clambered up some more, their black waistcoat and matching tie, grungy, moth-eaten and stained. And soon, they were tossing the soil aside to free the rest of their form as quickly as they could, their head slowly turning to calculate their surroundings. Due to the unnatural emptiness in the shadowy eye-sockets of something that was presumed to be _undead,_ a handful of the nuns shrieked out in panic but most of the others abruptly dropped their wicker baskets to swiftly escape the frightful scene, the black material of their habits flowing behind them. 

As more and more sisters began to abandon their duties in favour of fleeing, more wheezes passed through the awoken’s chapped lips, their hot breath funnelling into visible opal wisps. Breathing seemed to be a shock to their system and they struggled to wiggle their legs free, their wide onyx irises glaring at the composed crow in front of them, which was still outlined in glistening black particles as it cocked its head to the side, displaying expectant wisdom. Another unholy wail made its way out of their dry throat and they finally clawed at the clumps of withered wheat-grass and contorted roots that lined one of the edges of their grave. 

The bird simply continued to witness their immense efforts, calmly standing a few inches away from their curled fingers, which were still picking at the ground... and soon, they growled out in victory, feeling the soil around their legs crumble away. They managed to clamber free and dragged themselves up from the unpleasant recesses of the underground, their actions causing the crow’s wings to flap like it was a form of  _applause..._

And then, after a couple of minutes where they simply struggled to get to their feet, their aching legs trembling, the black oxfords on their feet heavy and obscured by crumbled clumps of dried mud... they eventually managed to stand, their exhausted, hunched form fuelled by nothing but dark matter and determination. They glared their blank, vacuous eyes, seeking instruction from the unassuming, inconspicuous black-feathered crow perched over the frosted field before them.

With loud, bated breaths, they stooped forwards with a wince, outstretching their left arm, their joints audibly cracking. The bird seemed to approve of their actions and it excitedly skipped closer, tilting its head as it persisted to study their empty, clouded eyes with intrigue. And once they relaxed their arm, unfurling their grimy fingers, the crow nimbly climbed up their arm to settle over their dusty left shoulder... where it sat majestically, content with its reclaimed company.


	2. Papa IV’s Overture

The reign of Papa Emeritus IV couldn’t have arrived sooner. Due to the sudden –  _breath-taking_ \- death of Papa Nihil, the role of Papa was Cardinal Copia’s by default, and most Ministry-dwellers were overjoyed by the inevitable changes that were lurking on the horizon of 2021. After Copia’s sudden yet  _smooth_ ascension, he wasted no time in seizing his newfound power, and to most of the Clergy’s dismay, started to  _splurge_ the Ministry’s funds left, right and centre. His papal robes were amongst the first lot of purchases and they were the most extravagant yet. He was impossible to ignore as he wandered the church’s marble-clad corridors, deep blue robes and tall, matching mitre sparkling as a Ghoul regally tailed him, boom box perched across its left shoulder. For months he had a soundtrack playing everywhere he walked and to his smug approval, was usually the centre of everyone’s attention.

His tendency to casually spend money wasn’t all that bad, however. After deciding that the Ministry was a little behind the times, he modified a large number of its general rules to suit his preferences and introduced adolescent Siblings to the place in order to share Satan’s teachings with a younger audience. And with the addition of new inhabitants, came the inevitable, belated arrival of Wi-Fi, much to Sister Imperator’s annoyance. Technology swarmed the church and Imperator was livid because she couldn’t find a way to stop such a thing... she certainly couldn’t persuade the new Papa to retract the new changes, especially when he  _revelled_ in the fact he’d had a perfectly sized pocket sewn beneath his robes for holding his cell phone. 

Other than bringing the Ministry into the appropriate century, Copia had also strongly insisted that the more dangerous sections of the older complex were renovated to a reliable standard. This request had made his subordinates bewildered... no one set foot in the building anymore, so it seemed like he was wasting money on a wasted building. Nevertheless, the work went ahead and once it was finished... everyone was  still set on avoiding the place. 

As a consequence of Papa’s sudden alterations to the Ministry and its occupants, the first few months of his reign were rather hectic, but neither the Siblings nor the Clergy complained, even if they disagreed with the decisions he was making. After years of Nihil’s stale, unrelenting rule, they were grateful for some kind of change, no matter the kind of form it took.

Yet when the first few months eventually passed, the gleam of Copia’s new title started to wear thin, and suddenly, it was fairly apparent that he was already starting to grow  _bored_ of the job. The generous myriad of cash was a satisfying perk, but once he actually had to deliver sermons, sign endless papers, answer overseas calls from disgruntled cardinals, sort out Sibling quarrels, discipline unruly Ghouls, satisfy pining sisters, fire incompetent members of the Clergy, make TV appearances, manage finances,  _and_ map out a tour for the release of the next  _Ghost_ album... it was all too overwhelming and stressful.

It seemed that the position Copia had been  desperate to fill for a number of arduous decades, wasn’t quite what he’d anticipated at all... 


	3. An Infamous Midnight Mass

It was the Ministry's last midnight mass of spring to welcome the slow approach of summer. And though it was mid May, the cold chill of night time clutched at everyone's ankles as they huddled together amongst the cathedral's packed out pews, their breaths jetting out as visible white vapour whenever they exhaled. Unlike the satanic midnight masses of the late Papa Nihil, the audience was still very much awake... and thankfully so was the unseasoned Papa IV, who was confidently delivering a rather philosophical sermon from the raised pulpit. The place was crammed full of Siblings of Sin that were wrapped up in their thickest vestments, each one perching thin metal-clad candle holders over their laps to keep themselves somewhat warm. The slender black candles they clutched wavered tastefully and lit up the rows of pews with a warm golden glow. Incense heavily lingered in the air and every so often, there was a fresh burst to ensure the overpowering scent was ever present.

Backed by an elaborate mountain of flickering black candles - which were various shapes and sizes - Copia's eyes slowly trailed across the vast space of the room, ensuring his gaze addressed everyone as he spoke. His mismatched eyes glistened from the large number of naked flames surrounding him and he looked imposing against the backdrop of moonlit stain-glass, steep slopes of black candles and suspended tapestries. He was heavily focused on the stress of his words and the gestures of his gloved hands, trying to express himself as sincerely as possible. 

He managed to prolong his concentration for the first fifteen minutes of the sermon and effortlessly had everyone's attention... even those that disapproved of him found that they couldn't tear their eyes away from his glittering presence. From Sister Imperator on the front row to the line of hooded individuals that were stood behind the back pews, each set of obscured eyes intently settled on him. His method of delivering a sermon was completely unorthodox and incredibly casual, like he was simply chatting to old friends, but there was something captivating about his performance that was impossible to describe.

He continued to speak confidently, and as he trailed his gaze further and further across the width of the cathedral... something unusual caught his eye. Something _obsidian_ , that had briefly lowered into his line of sight. He drew out a hesitation to ensure that he had thinking time, his head tipping back slightly so that his eyes could search the large expanse of ceiling for whatever it was he'd seen. He surveyed the space above and his brow furrowed, his words catching at the back of his throat. His eyes latched onto the black feathered bird instantly, and though his eyes slowly followed its movements as it elegantly - and _silently_ - swooped over the oblivious heads of the captivated congregation, rehearsed phrases started to impulsively tumble out of his mouth.

The packed pews didn't seem to notice his distracted gaze, and he continued to peer up at the surveying crow, his eyes suddenly bearing wisdom despite his bewildered frown. The bird gently circled above, tilting its head downwards like it was assessing those that were below, its glossy black eyes squinting with concentration. It ensured that it kept close to the ceiling, like it didn't wish to alert any of the humans on the ground and Copia's eyes narrowed in interest, words continuing to escape his mouth.

His furrowed brow set in place and he reluctantly lowered his head to acknowledge his audience again. Even though he had looked away from the ceiling, the crow's presence still bothered him for some reason and his mind began to wander to possible explanations for its presence. But after a short while, he couldn't think of anything plausible and soon gave up, deciding to focus on delivering his sermon instead. Ignoring the elegant flight of the black crow above, his gaze steadily scoured the crowded pews as speech unconsciously flowed from him. He settled his gaze on those that were stood at the very back of the place and spotted the unmistakable sight of  _movement_ from the elaborate archway. 

_Never,_ in all those months since his ascension, had _anyone_ attended his sermons so _late._ His words stalled for a moment and his eyes narrowed in slight irritation, but he carried on like nothing had ever occurred, content with sending them an intense, searing gaze. His mismatched irises followed the direction of the latecomer's dark figure as it cut across the back row of Siblings, its movements sharp and purposeful. And when its distant form emerged from the mass of his subordinates, it paused, standing in the middle of the central aisle like it was mirroring - or _mocking_ - the position of the pulpit.

He was shocked that someone had the  _audacity_ to do such a thing but kept quiet, locking his hardened eyes on them. He couldn't make out much because they were located at the opposite end of the cathedral, but he could just distinguish the black material of their attire, and it clutched to them closely... but it wasn't like the vestments of the surrounding Siblings, it looked more like... _a suit._

Copia's frown etched deeper and he squinted his eyes, hoping that it would help him study them better... _it certainly did._ He loudly hesitated and suddenly, his hostility vanished completely. Due to the fresh look of startled horror on Papa's face, whispers started to break loose and once his throat dried, his voice was halted from making any more noise and silence swept through the width of the cathedral, the soft rustle of wings coating the incense infused air above. Heads began to hastily turn to follow the direction of Copia's wide, alarmed irises... and they settled on a woman who was eerily standing in the aisle between the two wide sections of pews, arms folded over her chest in a strict manner. 

Her skin was milky white and although there was nothing virtuous or contrived about her face, her features were incredibly soft. Unlike her features, her eyes were harsh and seared like charred lumps of coal as they scoured over the packed pews in a contentious manner, regardless of the many eyes that had settled upon her. A sharp black blazer clutched to her torso, partially obscuring a matching waistcoat and tie, which contrasted the immaculate white shirt she wore beneath. The frayed ends of two plaits grazed the pressed material of her suit jacket, her thick hair an impossibly rich shade of burgundy.

Copia was speechless and simply glared at her like she was some kind of _living nightmare._ Although he couldn't study the stern woman closely from where he was stood, he certainly didn't need to... he knew _exactly_ who she was and he assumed that there must have been some kind of _gas leak,_ hopeful that what he was seeing was some kind of hallucination. But his hopefulness was pointless, because the fact that every single Sibling in the pews had swivelled around to face the woman who had caused him to wear an involuntary look of shock proved that she was _certainly existent._

Her gaze continued to trail across the silent mass of people and eventually, her black eyes arrived at the pulpit. The arms in front of her chest tightened and her shoulders tensed, her head tilting in confusion as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. Everyone could tell from her body language that she hadn't anticipated  _Copia's presence,_ let alone his dazzling royal blue robes or papal skull-paint...

He parted his painted lips and his heart thumped in his ears, filling the uncomfortable silence that was outstaying its welcome. His breaths became shorter and he yearned to descend the pulpit's stairs to dash towards her... but his feet were glued to the spot and he was set on staring at her in shocked amazement. His heart started to pound faster when she noticeably shifted her head away from him, and to his confusion, she peered upwards, her form stiffening even more. Her eyes followed the elegant crow’s movements closely, and once the bird flew up higher in order to execute a dive-bomb action, she confidently stepped forwards, striding down the vacant aisle in a defiant manner.

Each set of eyes was on her as she allowed her arms to swing by her sides, her eyes narrowing in concentration once the crow swooped down to calmly hover over one of the central pews on the left side of the cathedral. Her pace sped up once the bird let out a shrill caw and nonchalantly drifted down to idly land on one particular individual's shoulder... a priest who was so flawlessly pale that his skin matched the tone of his clerical collar. The scrutinising gazes of the Siblings slowly wandered to the wide-eyed man, and he seemed rather nervous and unsettled by the crow's presence. The bird simply shuffled over his shoulder and preened its shiny black feathers with its hooked beak, casually awaiting the woman's arrival.

Somehow, the silence still had a hold once the sharp-dressed woman came to a steady stop beside the gaunt, trembling priest and he immediately averted his eyes to his shoes to hide the unnatural glow of his blue irises. All the surrounding people could do was watch, as the woman reached beneath the hem of her black blazer to seize hold of something polished and undeniably sharp, and then... the crow flapped its wings violently, loudly squawking like it was some kind of warning. She lunged forwards, sharpened stake in hand, pinning the honed tip to the centre of the man's chest...

Gasps of horror spread like wildfire, for as she cleanly pulled her weapon away, the priest gave out a dramatic, vengeful hiss, revealing his twisted set of vampiric fangs and luminous cyan eyes... before he violently erupted into swishes of grey dust, soiling the pews and the polished chequered flooring below. The wine-haired woman smoothly holstered her stake into a slot on her belt and steadied out her left arm expectantly, clenching her pallid hand into a fist. The crow – which had nimbly landed over the wooden seat of the pew – shook off the thin layer of vampire dust that coated its feathers before propelling itself towards her. Once it settled over the black sleeve that covered her forearm, her expression became impassive and neutral like nothing had ever occurred and she turned around, wordlessly marching away from the scene, leaving to allow the cathedral to deal with its dumbfounded shock.

As she silently marched towards the arched exit, crow majestically perched on top of her arm, Sister Imperator shot up from the first row of pews, her intense eyes narrowed and bloodshot as she briefly regarded Copia... who was still stood motionless, utterly shell-shocked from what he’d just witnessed. The old woman shook her head in disapproval of his incompetence and reluctantly tore her gaze away, focusing on storming after the burgundy-haired woman instead, the clack of her heeled shoes echoing around the stone walls. 

As Imperator stormed further and further away from him, Copia resisted the urge to let out a loud exasperated squeak, the heads of his subordinates slowly swivelling back around to face him, mouths agape, eyebrows knitted. He figured they were expecting him to say something to take their minds off what had happened... or perhaps they expected him to  _explain_ the sudden appearance of the Ministry’s ex-resident alchemist  _Aemelia Vial..._

But he had absolutely no idea what to say, and he was certain that he couldn’t hide his bewilderment for his expression was one of alarm. He blinked away his thoughts and tried to relax his shoulders, clearing his throat to ensure that he had everyone’s attention. Nervously trailing his eyes over his expectant audience, he shifted nervously, swiftly lowering his gaze to glare down at a couple of jumbled pieces of paper that were resting over his lectern... his handwriting scrawled across each blank page and he swiped one of them up, crinkling the paper loudly with a nervous leather-clad fist.

“You guys... want to hear about the first time I met Satan?” he questioned, his voice filling the entire space of the cathedral as he anxiously flicked his hopeful eyes over the rows of confused Siblings. His offer only seemed to increase their confusion and he scrunched his unhelpful note into a crumpled ball with his gloved fist, carelessly tossing it over his shoulder. And his action suddenly prompted his subordinates to spew out panicked conversation, the silence overwritten by an eruption of chatter that was sure to give Copia a splitting headache. 

“ _No?_ Nobody wants to hear that? Ok... _cool, cool...”_ he muttered in a small voice, wincing at the chaotic clamour of his followers. He sighed deeply and clutched at the edges of the pulpit to steady himself, trailing his disappointed, tired eyes over the mass of people. And it wasn’t long until he spotted a familiar chrome-masked figure that was bounding down the aisle, obediently headed towards the pew that was now caked in an accumulation of powdered vampire remains, dustpan and brush in hand.

“You Ghouls can be a _fucking handful...”_ Copia murmured beneath his breath, exhaling deeply to try and settle his heart rate. “... but _I really can’t complain about the service.”_


	4. Faithfully Reminiscent

Leaving the shambles of a sermon had been easy for Aemelia Vial, but ignoring the clack of heeled shoes behind her as she passed through the cathedral’s heavily decorated archway was impossible. She stopped in her tracks once she was present in the marble-walled corridor outside, the black crow that was perched over her arm cocking its head when she reluctantly pivoted around to face whoever was following her. Sister Imperator practically had  steam coming out of her ears as she stalked towards the alchemist, her eyes squinting in accusation. Miss Vial made no attempt to turn and walk away, she simply stood, calmly meeting the old woman’s stare with a neutral expression. When Sister came to an abrupt halt in front of her, firmly grabbing hold of her right shoulder, Aemelia resisted the urge to sneer in distaste.

"I don't know what _game_ you are trying to play..." Sister murmured in a low, threatening tone, subtly tilting her head in order to drop her spiteful words into Miss Vial's ear. "... but you should _give up._ You have already made your point clear to me. And the _entire_ _Ministry_ for that matter."

Aemelia set her jaw and her gaze sharpened as she lowered her stare to emptily acknowledge the hand that Sister was clamping around her shoulder, and she huffed in annoyance, slowly trailing her eyes back to the infuriating older woman.

"I'm not playing a game, Sister." the alchemist mumbled, her eyes glaring slightly as a sudden eruption of panicked voices echoed from the cathedral’s arched entrance.

_"Of course_ you are playing a game, Miss Vial.” Imperator quietly replied, snatching her hand away from the woman to fold her arms in front of her chest. “Do not try to fool  _me._ You are standing here before me when  you should be  _withering in your own grave._ There isn’t an  _ounce_ of  rot on you, and you say that you’re  _not_ playing a  _game?”_

"Well, I didn't return here to  _humiliate you,_ if that’s what you’re implying.” Miss Vial sternly responded, fearless as she emotionlessly returned the conniving woman’s resentful gaze. “I'm here for  _myself_ and no other reason."

Sister hummed in consideration – but it was clear that she didn’t believe a word of what the alchemist had said - and reluctantly swivelled around to briefly acknowledge the commotion that was coming from the cathedral. The audible chaos caused her to look concerned, but she also seemed slightly  _proud_ for some reason, the touch of a wily smirk reaching her mouth.

"Then you haven’t returned for...  _him?"_ Sister questioned sharply, eagerly flicking her blade-like eyes to hammer them into the younger woman.

"You  _really_ think I'm going to take Copia away from you, don't you?"

"Of course I do. You are  _stubborn,_ like me." Imperator commented, her folded arms tensing. 

"I'm _nothing_ like you." Aemelia bitterly retorted, shaking her head in subdued disbelief. “And I couldn’t give a _damn_ about your _son_ or... _whatever_ the fuck he is. I’m here, because I want to be. The Ministry pays enough so that I get to live how I want. I’m not here for a _powerful position_ or a... _pay rise,_ even. I was fine with everything until you decided to fucking... _marinate me in soil._ I just want to get on with life here without you making everything a fuckin' _hell,_ alright?"

Sister glared at her menacingly and she simply endured the spiteful gaze, reaching her right hand over to her left arm. She furrowed her brow in annoyance and gently stroked her fingers over the crow’s black feathers, and the bird tilted its head in approval but it was still listening intently.

"You should be _dead,_ Miss Vial.” Imperator snapped, eyeing the crow in disinterest. “Do I really have to bury you a _second_ _time_ in order to do the job?"

"You  never do the job, Sister.” the alchemist replied in a deadpan tone, gently burying the tips of her fingers in the bird’s thick black feathers. “You just stand and watch and let everyone else do your bidding. And after everything that’s happened... I fear you  _far less_ than I ever did, so I wouldn’t waste your time trying this time round. And don’t worry, I  _won't say a word about it._ I doubt you’d want  _that_ information spread around this place.”

The older woman pursed her lips but stayed silent, dagger-like eyes piercing into the burgundy-haired woman, who was unnaturally calm considering the situation.

“There doesn’t have to be a problem between us, so long as we keep our separate ways.” Aemelia continued, lightly withdrawing her hand from the crow so that it could shuffle into a more comfortable position. “And just to remind you again... I don't desire to spend a _single_ _second_ in your son's company. So quit _shitting a brick..._ now, if you don’t mind... I’m buggering off to settle back in.”

After sending Sister a wry smile, she swiftly turned away before she got a reply, storming through the marble-clad hallway as quickly as she could. All sorts of worried thoughts should have been plaguing her after such an uncomfortable interaction, but for once, her head was completely clear. Although Miss Vial was still deeply traumatised by what had happened to her six months ago, she didn’t feel a shred of vengeance. She was noticeably at peace with Sister’s actions, and as she strayed further and further from Imperator’s view, the old woman began to seethe with annoyance...

Walking the desolate halls of the Ministry’s modern complex was like reliving the previous year all over again. It was oddly pleasant to traipse the slabstone floor, and Aemelia wore a calm expression, cautiously slowing her strides in order to stretch her left arm in front of her. The crow cawed and sprung from her sleeve, flapping its wings to elegantly soar through the air, eagerly surveying the contents of the upcoming corridor.

Now free of her bird companion, she sighed, hugging her arms around herself. She slowly followed the direction of the crow, trailing her dark eyes over the elaborate walls - immaculate marble stone on one side of her, thick stonework and stain-glass on the other. Her return to the Ministry may have seemed like a shock to its community, but to her, it was inevitable. Yet, she had never intended to arrive in such a _dramatic_ _fashion..._ staking a priest amongst his fellow congregation had _never_ been part of the plan. Arriving at the Ministry after midnight had seemed like a cunning idea... but unfortunately for her, this particular night had happened to be a _midnight mass,_ and unfortunately for her, her crow companion had swooped into the cathedral, following the scent of a bloodthirsty kind of creature - which it was incredibly accustomed to detecting - and once it had pointed out the vampire in the crowd, Aemelia was hardly going to _ignore_ its existence...

She sighed again, shaking her head in amused disbelief. Her night couldn’t have gone much worse, but she supposed that seeing Copia in a state of silent alarm had taken the edge off slightly... even if she  _was_ utterly confused about why he’d been wearing deep blue robes that had been eerily similar to an overly polished mirror ball... but of course, she had her suspicions about some sort of  _promotion._

She blinked out of her thoughts, and it was lucky that she did, because she almost missed the entrance to the older complex. The crow had already flown far ahead of her like it had known exactly where she’d wanted to go, and she squinted her eyes, trying her best to distinguish its form amongst the dim light of the narrow corridor. She’d forgotten how dingy and ominous the old building was, but she’d missed its winding hallways and candle-lit walls. It was comforting to be walking around the place again, the darkness seemed like the shadowy embrace of an old friend and she fearlessly delved further into the thin sheet of blackness. Candle light bounced from her eyes as she studied the walls around her, trying to make sense of where she was exactly... and soon, it was clear to her.

She could just make out a door coming up on her right... a door that was wedged shut and covered in messy sprawls of thick black tape, nailed wooden boards and a few snaking stainless steel chains. A scowl graced her brow and she slowed her strides, her black irises shining with curiosity. As the door grew closer and closer, her frown deepened and she eventually halted, trying to understand what she was suddenly hearing. 

Little grunts of effort emerged from somewhere down below and she glared her eyes in confusion, peering at the slabstone floor beneath her feet. There, straining as he tried to yank something plastic and rectangular over the floor, was Copia’s demonic familiar,  _Nekid._ He wheezed out in exhaustion but persisted his actions, his pale grey skin and bleach white mohawk stark amongst the darkness. Despite his tiny, slender, naked form, Miss Vial noticed that he seemed to have gained an inch in height and her startled confusion vanished, her mirth-filled eyes observing his impressive efforts. He was so set on pulling the oblong item along the floor that he didn’t appear to notice her presence, his needle-like teeth meshing as he tugged on its rounded plastic edges. His spindly arms pulled and pulled and the more Miss Vial observed, the more she realised that the item in his grasp appeared to be some kind of  _video game case_ . She could tell from its shiny cover and rounded edges and she felt the corners of her mouth curling upwards. 

Not wishing to alert the little imp, she decided to glance towards the door they were stood beside. She only just recognised that it was the door to Copia’s office because it was partially obscured by the tangled mess of tape, boards and chains that covered it, and to her surprise, the deterrents seemed rather  _pointless_ because the door appeared to be slightly ajar... and it was clear, due to Nekid’s location, that he had likely  _caused_ the little gap in the door frame.

Nekid let out one last loud grunt of effort and blew a raspberry in frustration, ending his struggle by releasing the edge of the game case from his tiny mitts. It clattered to the ground, lying flat like a heavy stone tablet. Nekid growled behind his teeth and crossed his arms over, narrowing his mismatched eyes as he violently turned his back on it with a huff...

And that’s when he realised that a shadow was falling over him.

He raised his head and gasped, pressing his slender hands against the sides of his oval head as he gawped at the woman who was towering over him. He eyed Miss Vial in horror, like he was witnessing some kind of  _ghost..._ a tiny noxious toot of fright escaped him.

_"Meeeh-Maah-Meeeees Vial?!"_ he shrieked, jumping backwards so that he could attempt to cower behind the thin video game case. The sudden movements of the imp caused Aemelia to narrow her eyes in confusion but she nodded in reluctant agreement.

_"Mm-hm,_ yep, it’s me." she grumbled, shaking her head in subdued amusement before she cautiously side-stepped around his seven inch form.

_"Wait! No no!_ You are no _pretty ghostie!_ You are _real! Ahhh!_ Get your _thicc_ _ass_ back here!” he cried after her, but she continued to navigate the darkness and he let out an excited gasp when he eagerly began to follow her. “What are you doing here?! Does _ratto_ know you are here?! Should I tell him?! _Flaghhhh!_ His bladder is going to _explode_ with excitement, _eheeh!"_

She ignored the patter of his small feet – which were quickly gaining on her - and confidently strode through the rest of the hallway, closing her ears to Nekid’s hysterical rambles. She thought the crass familiar’s amazement was rather sweet and unexpected, but she didn’t respond to a single thing he was babbling out, focused on powering ahead. And thankfully, it wasn’t long before she arrived at her destination.

The door to the apothecary was exactly like she’d remembered:  ancient, heavy and overly varnished.  And her crow companion was already stood waiting for her, hopping from foot to foot over the stone floor below. She briefly raised a brow at the bird’s actions, oblivious to whatever Nekid was still chattering about as she stooped down towards the door handle, firmly latching her hand around it. She tried twisting and pulling a few times but it seemed like the mechanism was jammed and she growled in slight annoyance, elbowing the wooden surface of the door to see if it would make a difference... but sadly, it didn’t.

_"Eheheheh ohh_ _noooo,_ Mees Vial!” Nekid suddenly exclaimed, his little warm hand clutching at the black material of one of her trouser sleeves as he peeked around her leg. “You won’t get in there! Ratto had _locks_ installed a few weeks after you left. I guess he wanted to _preserve_ its contents. He can be so _sentimental_ sometimes, _bleugh! Gak,_ what a _paranoid, senile ratto!”_

She frowned at Nekid’s strangely helpful information and dropped her hand away to inspect the door handle. She realised that it was brand new, formed out of heavy duty stainless steel and coated in specks of silver. Keeping her black eyes on the object, she slid a hand beneath the hem of her blazer, fumbling with a belt that was hidden from view.

“You feeling _kinky_ already, Mees Vial?” Nekid teased with a titter, peering up her trouser-leg with a mischievous grin. She rolled her eyes at his comment and continued her actions, eventually fishing out a thin, twisted piece of black wire. And with that, she leaned forwards, starting to expertly pick the lock.

_"Oooh,_ breaking and entering looks so _sexy_ on you, ehek!” the little imp rasped, chuckling to himself as he squeezed his arms around one of her legs to ensure that he was latched onto her. “So... _how you been all this time?_ Slayed any _hot vampire_ s lately? I got real _busy_ with this fangy bitch since you've been gone and _ooooof_ , she had a super _squishy rack!_ I am glad to have _hot vampire chick_ off my bucket list.” Nekid chattered, pressing his needle-like teeth into a wicked grin. "I am _veeeery_ surprised to see you back here at all. Not many people can say they survived the whole _buried alive_ thing, _ehekhek!"_

Her lock picking abruptly halted and she grasped the wire tightly in her fist. Then she swiftly bent down to glare her black eyes into the tiny, blinking imp, who peered up at her innocently, baffled by the animosity she adorned.

"Don't you  _dare_ say a  _word_ about that.  _Especially to Copia."_ she murmured softly, though her eyes hammered into him like stiletto daggers. "I don't care how you know. But I care about you talking so  _freely_ about something I  _really_ don't want anyone else knowing, so  _shut the fuck up,_ alright?

Nekid's eyes widened and he shrunk into the floor, his small hands tightly grasping onto the material of her trouser-leg. A relieved gulp escaped him as she stood up straight to continue her lock-picking and she shook her head in disapproval.

_"R-Ratto?! Whaaaa?_ Why would I tell him this? It is valuable  _blackmail_ information! I could get some serious  _mula_ out of him for  _not_ telling him!" he squeaked, his wide, glossy eyes peering up at her.

"You'r e  _ripping him off..._ why I am not surprised?” she muttered darkly, the wire in her grasp scratching the insides of the lock. “But you’re never going to actually tell him what happened, right?”

_"Naaa,_ I do not plan on telling him that his mama tried to _murder_ _you,_ that would be fucking... _ruuuuude!_ And... it would really set him back a couple weeks.” he explained with a sad, needle-toothed grin. “Ratto hasn’t been the same since you left. He's very _antsy_ and... goes through red wine like... _I go through sisters’ panties, ehek._ _Ahh,_ he is a shameful, _senile_ ratto. Too _pathetic_ to be a true _Papa."_

She wanted to ask the familiar more about his last sentence, but before she could, the lock clunked and she quickly slipped the gnarled bit of wire into the inside pockets of her blazer. She dropped her head and shot Nekid a threatening stare. He glared up at her and reluctantly let go of her leg, tittering nervously.

"So, I can trust you to keep your little gob shut?" she whispered, charcoal irises piercing into him. She was a little concerned that she was technically forging a _deal_ with the infamously mischievous Nekid, but for some reason, she got the feeling that she could actually  _rely_ on him keeping his mouth shut for once. Especially if it meant he could milk money out of his summoner.

_"Yiiis yiiiis, I promise!"_ he quickly replied through a toothy smile, his large eyes shining with surprise as he toppled back, his butt landing over the stone floor with an echoing  _slap._

"Good. Now  _fuck off,_ I need to settle in...  _alone."_

She twisted the door handle and the whole door let out a shudder...

"Waiiiiit,  _wait!_ Before you go, Miss Vial! Could... could you help me with my  _game..._ I really wanted to play  _Zelda_ today but the case is a lot  _bigger_ than I remember and - "

She huffed and abruptly draped out her right arm, pointing towards the direction of Copia’s barricaded office, and the crow that had been patiently loitering, obediently followed the motion of her fingers. Nekid flinched at the flap of its wings but gawped, amazed by its presence as it soared through the darkness. 

“He’ll carry your game for you.” she said simply. “But you owe him. _And me.”_

Nekid giggled gleefully and immediately shot up from the floor to patter after the bird enthusiastically, shaking his behind from side to side as he went. Aemelia rolled her eyes at the lack of gratitude but she decided not to dwell on it and elbowed her way into her faithful workplace.

When she finally entered the apothecary... it was like she’d never left. She closed the door behind herself and leaned against it, trailing her dark eyes over the contents. It was hard to make out anything due to the shadow of night, but she could see that it was exactly the same. The shelves were tidy, filled with labelled jars, tethered boxes and spotless mixing containers. The alchemy station - which still occupied the majority of the modest room – was the only item that appeared to have a thin layer of dust and she winced in contemplation. Her eyes settled at the back of the place and she admired the rays of moonlight that poked through the red and opal shards of the small stain-glass window that was located there.

She’d missed the apothecary more than she’d been willing to admit, and she took a step forwards, sighing out in relief. She was glad that everything she’d collected was still there, and she was even more glad that the shelves, the alchemy station, the central fire pit, the collection of glass containers... all of it, was completely untouched, like she’d never been away.

As she strode to the very centre of the room, she slowly swivelled around, taking in everything to make sure she wasn’t just dreaming. But sure enough, it was real. Although the place was exactly as she’d remembered it... she couldn’t help sensing that there was something new that hadn’t been there before. She’d only noticed the feeling now that she’d slowly spun around, and sure enough, her eyes soon settled upon it. There, to the right of the door, neatly tucked into one of the few spaces left in the small room, was what appeared to be a make-shift  _shrine._

Her eyebrows knitted together but her eyes softened as she studied the short stack of books and scriptures, which supported a plethora of wilted flower petals, scribbled notes and newspaper clippings. And then, on top of that, there were a few pots containing crimson candles that were still burning away like they’d only just been lit. Even though the shrine was small, it made her eyes shine sadly and she let out a humble huff, unsure what to make of the sight... but she couldn’t ignore that there was a slight ache in her chest.

Its flickering presence made her feel like she’d been  _welcomed back_ somehow, and for that, she was immensely grateful. 


	5. The Klutzy Congregation

Sitting in the Ministry’s draughty assembly room was the last thing Aemelia Vial expected to be doing during the afternoon of the next day. Surrounded by a Clergy of sour-faced strangers - that Papa had likely  _hand-picked_ – she sat stiffly, resting her elbows over the comfy velvet arms of a dining chair, the golden glow of candelabras that lined the surface in front of her casting dark shadows over her pallid features. Amongst the disgruntled scowls that littered each side of the impressive table were faces that she briefly recognised. She got the feeling that they were the more  _stubborn_ members of the Clergy that Copia hadn’t managed to shake off. She scoffed back an amused huff and lowered her black irises to the rosewood surface of the dining table, wishing to avoid the fresh, accusing eyes of the Clergy.

Despite the stern expressions and inquisitive eyes of those present, she was pleasantly surprised that she was surrounded by a diverse panel of people. Instead of the overwhelming number of  _elderly men_ that had dominated Nihil’s Clergy, there was a mixture of all kinds of people. Middle-aged strong-minded sisters, quiet, unassuming stone-faced cardinals, a handful of cafeteria and infirmary staff, a variety of fresh-faced priests – including Father Ramio, who appeared to have had quite a  _make-over_ since Aemelia had last seen him - and a couple of teenage Siblings who were almost at the vital age of vow making.

Considering her sudden arrival the day prior, she was confused why she had been summoned to a _staff meeting_ so soon. She’d been tempted to simply _ignore_ such a request, but then, she didn’t want to seem closed minded. She could sense that her presence had caused the tension that hung in the air and she could feel the icy stares upon her even as she bored her eyes into the table. The drone of a cardinal’s voice echoed about the place and the silence of his associates let her know that everyone was invested in whatever he was saying. But she wasn’t at all, and she sighed, deciding that she was in for a long evening of _drivel,_ and so, she allowed herself to slouch down into a more comfortable position, unaware that Sister Imperator’s observant gaze was slicing into her from the opposite end of the table. Even though she felt less uneasy with the company surrounding her than the previous occasion that she had sat at such a table, she still felt like a _despised outsider._

Soon, to Aemelia’s relief, the cardinal who had been speaking finally appeared to arrive at the end of his rant and murmurs erupted around the table. Most sounded agreeable, but the odd one sounded skeptical. Another voice she didn’t recognise swiftly piped up to have their say on something and Aemelia rolled her eyes, lifting her head to survey the rest of the table to keep herself occupied... if she didn’t she was sure that she would have started to drift off to sleep. She trailed her disinterested eyes over the faces of the Clergy until she reached the very end of the table... and she froze, hardening her eyes venomously. She stared at the spacious spot where Copia was  prodigally located, and he was twinkling away in his papal robes as he silently sat atop his unhallowed throne. He appeared to be engaged in the conversation even though he hadn’t spoken a word and she narrowed her eyes in contemplation.

She wondered whether he even knew that she was present... and then immediately scolded herself for being so stupid. _Of course_ he must have known that she was there...  _who else_ would have summoned her to such an event? It certainly wasn’t any of the strangers sat around her... and it  _definitely_ wasn’t  _Imperator’s_ doing. Not wanting to alert him to her presence, she swiftly lowered her head again, averting her eyes to the table’s surface. She continued to keep a low profile for a few minutes, purposely closing her ears to the conversation to stop herself dying of boredom.

However, after a few minutes, the success rate of her silent obliviousness was dwindling, for Copia started to lose interest in the new topic of conversation and subtly regarded his table of subordinates. His curious eyes raced ahead of him as he looked further and further away from him, and once he surveyed the other end of the table, he was immediately drawn to a familiar snippet of wine-red hair. The unexpected sight of the swinging ends of Aemelia’s burgundy plaits caused his gloved hands to firmly grasp the arms of his throne, the telling creak of leather giving away his slight distress.

Now fully aware of her quiet presence, his thoughts began to drown out the Clergy’s conversation and his mismatched gaze lingered upon her, his heart thumping in his ears. His exhales became long and deep and he just managed to keep his breathing quiet so that no one would notice his sudden bout of yearning. However, he couldn’t hide the fact he was staring at her. Luckily, everyone’s attention appeared to be on the person who was speaking at that particular moment. So he continued to gaze at her with blatant longing, amazed that she was even present. He’d been too busy –  _nervous,_ more like – to approach her in person, but sending a Ghoul with an invitation to the weekly staff meeting had been a convenient stroke of genius. He never thought she would actually turn up... and now that he was actually observing her from afar, he suddenly felt a lot warmer.

He’d only managed to catch a glimpse of her the day before, and now that she was a lot closer to him, he could study her more successfully. A few more lines had appeared over the pale features of her face since he last saw her and her hair was significantly longer, for the ends of her plaits draped down to settle over the lapels of her black blazer. Her dark eyes were focused on the table but their hypnotic gleam was unmistakable. Her deadpan expression gave away her discomfort regarding the situation and he furrowed his brow slightly, hoping that she would glance his way so that she would see his expression of reassurance... but she never did.

He could tell that he wasn’t the only one that was deeply affected by Aemelia Vial’s presence because the atmosphere around the table was unusually  _sombre._ By the time ten minutes of the meeting had passed, the entire table was usually in raucous discussion, yet today it was deathly silent. But Copia welcomed the quiet so that he could focus on trailing his eyes over the shape of her face, hoping that he was suppressing his deep exhales enough to be ignored. 

He allowed himself to concentrate on her for a good few minutes whether people noticed his fixation or not, silently grateful that conversation was still the focus of his subordinates. And being so caught up in observing the apathetic alchemist, he failed to realise that the topic of the discussion had shifted to something rather important...

“Yes, but I feel that it is part of our duty to keep them safe.” one of the eldest sisters declared, passionately disagreeing with whoever had been speaking prior. “They are still children and they will not learn if we do not hinder their mischief. We cannot allow them to wander the halls at night, the undercroft is still under renovation and we need to make sure its unholiness is preserved and honoured respectfully. Children running rampant is hardly _respectful,_ cardinal.”

"They may be young and foolish, but I say that we  allow them to have their fun." one of the stern-faced cardinals retorted, readjusting the black biretta clutching to his head of silver hair. His comment seemed to encourage murmurs of agreement and Aemelia shifted in her seat, trying to resist voicing her disagreement. She settled over the chair by straightening her back, narrowing her eyes in annoyance as her hands searched the lining of her blazer pockets. Eventually, she fished out one of her pre-rolled cigarettes and slotted it between her grey lips, trying to distract herself as best she could... but her actions only seemed to fuel her desire to play devil’s advocate. She raised her head, ready to address the murmuring Clergy, firmly setting aside her role of the  _mysterious outsider._

"Young or not, nobody with a _pulse_ should be in _spitting distance_ of that fuckin' place." she confidently declared, raising her voice to ensure that she would be heard over the subdued chatter. The whole table dried up into silence and she continued her actions like nobody was watching, fishing out a match from her pockets. She lifted up a leg and rested it over her lap, striking the match against the side of her shoe. The atmosphere grew cold and awkward when she cupped a hand around her face, pressing the fresh flickering flame to the end of her cigarette. Once she shook out the match and spewed out the first lot of opal smoke from her mouth, most heads turned to Papa, all of them expecting him to scold her for blatantly ignoring the rules of the Ministry by _smoking indoors..._ but he didn’t utter a sound and simply persisted to gaze at her in silent apprehension.

"Surely you can’t  _all_ be  _this_ surprised? Well... it’s reassuring to know that none of you have bothered to have a look for yourselves.” she continued darkly, briefly pausing to puff out another cloud of cigarette smoke. “The undercroft is filled to the  _rafters_ with vampires. And I'm not talking about the fuckers that are  _our size._ These ones are huge and... hard to forget in a hurry."

"How would  _you_ know? You only just started here." a youthful sister cut in, squinting her skeptical, disapproving brown eyes at the rebellious resident alchemist. Aemelia tilted her head and turned slightly to acknowledge the woman sincerely, taking another long drag before she rested her elbow on the edge of the table, poising the smouldering cigarette between a couple of slender fingers.

"Because before I left here six months ago, I was _well_ _aware_ that the place was ridden with those _blood thralls.”_ she explained in an irritated tone, lowering her eyes to the table to stop herself shooting daggers at Sister Imperator. “And unfortunately, they're still down there because I was fuckin' _fired_ before I could get rid of the bastards."

Most of the table – including Imperator – shot their bewildered eyes towards Copia like Miss Vial’s blunt manner was somehow  _his_ fault. It was clear that they wanted him to scold her or at the very least,  _intervene._ But he continued to silently observe her like he was caught up in some sort of  _spell,_ from his peaceful expression it was clear that he was content being lost in her.

"Were you aware of this, your Dark Excellency?" Father Ramio asked in a timid voice, his shrill tone causing many more heads to turn Copia’s way. They squinted at their Papa expectantly and he blinked a few times like he was only just leaving a vivid daydream, anxiously shuffling over his seat.

_"Hm... what?_ What did you say?” he murmured softly, his frown deepening as his bewildered eyes flicked from face to face, hoping their stern expressions would give him some form of answer.

"Were you aware of the undercroft's  _vampire infestation?"_ Sister Imperator snapped from the right side of the table, her unnerving gaze scolding him. He anxiously trailed his eyes to the unimpressed woman – he took a mental note that he should probably have her moved further down the table when the next meeting came around, he didn’t like his mother being so close to him – and his back stiffened. He glared at her as innocently as he could and knitted his eyebrows together, shaking his head.

"No, no... I am afraid that I was not aware of...  _that._ It is news to me.” he smoothly lied in an airy, virtuous tone. “But... now that... Miss Vial has -  _ahem_ \- returned, I am certain that the situation will be appropriately dealt with. Until then... Father Ramio, I want you to patrol the surrounding corridors at night time to make sure the kiddies do not go down there, ok?"

"Oh yes,  of course, your Dark Excellency!” the grey eyed priest exclaimed, beaming from ear to ear. “Glad to help however I can.”

“ _Scusi..._ how can you be so sure of Miss Vial, your Dark Excellency? She has only just returned to the Ministry, and has had no time to prove herself.” a confident sister sat across from the smoking alchemist spoke up, tilting her head to shoot Papa an inquisitive stare. Papa swiftly turned his head towards the sister and his eyes seemed to harden with annoyance, but his face dropped into a mask of indifference. To most, his underlying irritation was missed, but to some, it was as plain as day. He seared his mismatched eyes into the brave sister and relaxed his gloves over the arms of his throne, confident with his reply.

“Then I guess you were not present at yesterday’s sermon, sister?” he quietly asked in a strange, soft, disapproving tone. “Miss Vial made quite the _spectacle._ But she assessed the situation and simply reacted. She acted quickly and _staked_ the _shit_ out of Father Velus... he turned to dust in front of our eyes. He was a _traitor,_ sister. A... _bitey... crafty..._ _heartless_ son of a bitch that _deserved_ the shame of the spectacle, ok? He had been wriggling his way into our Clergy for _months..._ completely _undetected._ It could have been _veeery_ nasty for us if he had been allowed to live any longer... I never liked the guy anyways, guess it must have been the whole _vampire-y_ aura thing that made me feel... _icky.”_

There was an awkward, unsettling pause where the only sound in the room was Aemelia Vial spewing out another cloud of wispy white smoke. Unlike the baffled Clergy that surrounded her, she didn’t appear to give a damn about what Copia was saying, but she reluctantly allowed her dark eyes to trail towards him, slowly settling her gaze on the rosewood panelling behind him. It was her stubborn way of acknowledging him without giving him a slither of her attention.

“You’re lucky that I found him when I did. Another few days and the Ministry would have been his hunting grounds. He’d have leeched blood off us all while we slept.” she stated gravely, her face completely vacant of emotion. “And I doubt any of you would have _enjoyed_ that. So please, like Ca - _Papa_ has already said, make sure _everybody_ steers clear of the undercroft. Leave the vampires to me... as soon as I’m able, I’ll make sure I get rid of every single one of ‘em.”


	6. The Seemingly Harmless Temptation

The uncomfortable awkwardness of the staff meeting seemed to linger throughout the day, hours after the tiresome gathering. Even going on eleven at night, discomfort hung in the tepid air of the Ministry like the very corridors of the place could sense something awkward on the horizon, and they were wise in their feeling. As the hallways grew desolate and both the Clergy and Siblings of Sin retired to their respective rooms for the night, their Papa was doing the same... and was perhaps a little too  content with his own company for the evening.

Picking up his cell phone to text her as he basked in the luxurious comfort of his personal quarters seemed like a  _safe temptation._ But then, he’d thought the same about the couple of bottles of red wine he’d already emptied. Copia was undeniably tipsy as he idly sprawled across one of the plush velvet loungers in front of the crackling fireplace, adorning nothing but a long burgundy smoking jacket that finished just above his knees. His head was snugly supported by an array of muddled cushions and his hair was cleanly slicked back, appearing a little darker due to damp particles clutching to each lock of chestnut hair. From the smudges of black that circled his eyes and the odd black blemish that stained the thin lines of his lips, it was clear that he’d not long showered, though the pink that tinged his cheeks gave away his recent wine-drinking.

He was holding his smart phone far too close to his fuzzy mismatched eyes, and the vibrant glow of the screen lit up his chiselled features. Its glow seemed to waver between dim and bright as he used the tip of a bare finger to clumsily scroll the screen upwards and his eyes widened in fascination. He searched the long list of phone numbers for the one he’d added earlier, and the more he scrolled, the more his mouth started to crawl into a crumpled smile of excitement.

Acquiring Aemelia Vial’s phone number had been far too easy, and though he had sworn to himself that he  _wouldn’t_ use it to contact her directly, he was no longer sober, and suddenly contacting her seemed like an incredibly _brilliant_ idea.  In his skewed, tipsy mind, he only saw the positive outcomes of doing such a thing... after all, it was the best way he could approach her without having to look her in the eyes or utter a word. And the best part was that his words would simply be attached to an alien number on her phone screen. He could say whatever he liked to her _\- anonymously -_ without fear of nervously stuttering his way through some embarrassing conversation.

Confidence oozed from him once he caught sight of a black heart emoji – which he’d  _insisted_ on putting beside her name - and he eagerly scrolled back to it, ignoring the presence of a few rows of numbers until he could see  _Cipolletta_ plainly labelled before his eyes. He cleared his throat, shuffled himself over the cushions of the lounger to make sure that he was a little more comfortable and then tapped the screen once. The message box immediately plastered over the screen in front of him and his throat suddenly felt extremely dry. He was already filled with nerves despite his confident manner and raised his free hand to his face, gently grazing a couple of fingers beneath his chin in contemplation.

Although texting her had sounded like an amazing, achievable idea... he had no idea what to say to her. He certainly didn’t want to type something that would give away his identity... so he decided on avoiding anything too deep or meaningful. As he huffed out in quiet, frustrated thought, he pouted in contemplation, squinting his eyes at the indecisive flash of the black text cursor. He continued to hesitate for quite some time, trying his best to focus on something to say to her... and eventually, he did indeed come to a  _decision._

He awkwardly shuffled over the cushions again, but settled on sitting upright this time. His bare thumbs tapped the plastic of the phone screen and he dipped his head low, nervously re-reading every single word he managed to type. And eventually, once his string of words formed a substantial sentence, he scrolled all the way back to the beginning, reading it over a couple of times to ensure that there were no mistakes or any little clues that may have hinted at who the sender was... and content that it was free of both, he shrugged, let out a satisfied sigh... and finally hit send.

_"Hello there, mysterious, sexy alchemist. I seem to have a real hunger problem. You think your muffin could be my filling?”_

He dropped his phone onto the cushions beside his head and peered his wide, anxious eyes at the tall ceiling above him, trying to find some way to distract himself from thinking about the message he’d just sent. Despite how nervous he was about receiving a message in return, he was rather proud of what he’d managed to come up with, regardless of how cheesy it was, and he sighed, focusing on the reassuring crackle of the fireplace to distract himself some more. But soon, his heart began to race with concern and he clenched his teeth together, his head falling back against the sofa’s muddled cushions when he squeezed his eyes shut.

After a few minutes of a suspenseful lack of response, he started to feel regretful. His arms draped by his sides and his hands balled into fists... why he thought texting her such a  _risqué_ thing was  _good idea,_ he would never know. There was no way she would respond to such a salacious text that had arrived completely out of the blue. He started to mentally scold himself... he should have been  _plain_ with her, told her how much he had missed her, how much he wanted to catch up with her, how he wished he wasn’t so integral to the Ministry now that she had returned... but of course, he could hardly redeem himself by sending a follow up text now. He supposed he would just have to deal with the consequences.

And to his anxious surprise, consequences arrived sooner than he expected. After a gut-wrenching few minutes of tense embarrassment, his phone abruptly buzzed and his message tone – which happened to be a snippet of harmonies from the chorus of  _Rats_ played on a plastic kazoo – filled his quarters, echoing from wall to wall. He scrambled to sit up over the scatters of cushions littering his lounger and clumsily snatched hold of his phone, letting out a grunt of effort when he finally managed to sit in a somewhat upright position. 

Once he unlocked his phone screen, his heart began to flutter and he swallowed, eagerly tapping the notification on his inbox. He started to blush profusely once her message flashed into existence and he drew out his long, heavy breaths, raising the phone to his face so that he could read her message closely with intoxicated, squinting eyes.

_"Sex is cool and all... but so are stakes Copia. I’m busy working so go pester someone else.”_ her text read, with a middle finger emoji appropriately tagged at the end. Overlooking the fact she didn’t seem remotely interested in his sexting, his heart pounded at the sight of his own name. He was shocked that she had already figured out that  _he_ was the sender of such a text... but her deduction only proved to him that she still knew him incredibly well. He wore a soft crooked smile and slouched back into the cushions, holding his phone beneath his chin whilst he frantically typed his response, desperate to seize the opportunity of her attention before it slipped away from him. Too excited and erratic with his thumb presses, he ended up making quite a few errors and once he’d completed his message, he tried to scroll back to scan the words for any mistakes. But he was in such a nervous state that his fingers slipped and he accidentally hit  _send_ instead.

_"I am just checkinf I hace the correct bumber. It appeals that I have. Thank you for confirming that for me Miss Vile.”_ he’d hurriedly responded, concluding the reply with a couple of eye emojis. And almost immediately after it had sent, he narrowed his eyes at the published message on the screen, his expression suddenly turning to one of anxious horror.

“ _Ah shit!_ I didn’t mean to fucking... press _send._ Ah well... _who cares?”_ he muttered to himself, clutching his phone to his chest. He closed his eyes and was hopeful, nervously awaiting some form of reply to know that she wasn’t ignoring him. But after some time, it was clear that he was never going to get a reply... so after very little deliberation, he mustered up the drunken courage to call her instead.

He continued to squeeze his eyes shut as he pressed the phone to his right ear, the dial tone sounding lonelier and lonelier the longer it went on. He muttered curses to himself, blaming his careless fingers and spelling errors for the reason she wasn’t picking up. And eventually, the dial tone came to an end, but to his subdued delight, he appeared to have reached her voice mail. He revelled in the sound of her poorly recorded voice and his nerves calmed in an instant, though his breaths had noticeably become a lot shorter.

Once the beep sounded, the line was live and he parted his mouth, nervously licking his lips. 

“Ahm... _hello._ It’s me... your... _Papa,_ heh heh... or Copia... _whatever._ You can... you can call me whatever you like. I just wanted to say that you... looked _really_ fucking sexy today, you know? I would... definitely have... _tapped your ass_ if you would have let me. If you’re feeling a little... lonely like I am right now... you could always... come here, to my chamber... _heh heh..._ i-if... if you wanted. We could - “

He shuffled the phone a little as he let out a huff of hesitation, but in doing so, he brushed the middle of the screen against one of his side-burns and it caused the recording to abruptly shut off. At the sound of a contemptuous beep, he swiftly took the phone away from his ear and glared at it like it had burned him, lightly growling in frustration. Even though he hadn’t finished his bumbling message, it was clear that Aemelia would grasp what he was trying to say. It was clear from his rich, persuasive tone, the airy quality to his manner of speaking and the rather brazen admission of his penchant for her, that he was somewhat  _tipsy..._ it was unlikely she would ever acknowledge such a message.

And sure enough, he didn’t receive any form of response from her.

However, even by the time midnight arrived, he was still slouched over the lounger, patiently waiting for a reply. And it seemed now that he had been left to sit in suspense for a while, he was in quite a peaceful state of arousal. His mind was awash with obscene fantasies about her and although he was desperate for her to reply to him, he was content living in his vivid daydreams for a little while longer. But to his relief, a response did eventually arrive and as soon as his phone loudly notified him, he swiped it up from the lounger’s cushions, fumbling with it until he had the screen directly in front of his face. 

_"Fuck off. I’m on a case. It’s an emergency so I’m busy. You could have used voice mail to actually talk to me but instead you let your dick talk for you. How typical.”_

He glared his eyes and was struck with immediate concern for the case she had vaguely mentioned, frantically tapping the screen until he found the call button. Once he started the fresh call to her, he pressed the phone to his ear again, his worried mismatched eyes searching the elaborate ceiling above. This time, it only rang a few times before abruptly cutting off and he scowled in annoyance, sliding his phone away from his face to narrow his eyes at the screen in irritation.

Before he could press the call sign to try again, his message tone went off and he jumped out of his skin, his hand only just managing to keep hold of his phone. He tried to keep his breathing steady and squinted his eyes at the screen again, hoping that she had sent him a reassuring message...

_"How the fuck did you even get this number?"_ her reply read.

He expelled an anxious sigh and his thumbs were frantically tapping away again, white lies effortlessly forming from the flicks of his fingertips. His mismatched eyes were wide with concentration and he breathed out a deep breath, ignoring the inkling of guilt that was subtly tugging away at his chest.

_"I needed to put down someone as a spare emergency contact. And I didn’t want to add Sister Imperator.”_ he swiftly lied, hoping that she wouldn’t smell a rat. But considering the prompt arrival of her next reply, he could only assume that she had...

“ _Sure you did. Stop trying to call me. You can text or call when you have the balls to actually speak to me in person. You had the chance during the shitshow meeting earlier. But you were silent. Even the clergy seemed surprised that you didn’t have the balls to speak to me. Until you can talk to me in person, leave me the fuck alone.”_

Despite her bitter, hostile comments, his heart pounded in hopeful excitement. A small crumpled smile swept across his mouth and he settled on reading her last message over and over, imagining the intensity of her voice when she said such passionate, snide words. And the more he imagined the soothing sound of her soft cockney accent and her deadpan, grumbling tone, he was suddenly desperately wishing that he could muster the courage to approach her in person...


	7. The Perfect Excuse

The office of Papa Emeritus IV wasn’t much different to the one he’d previously had when he was a cardinal, it was just...  _bigger._ It was dim and cladded in varnished rosewood panelling, chandeliers bearing iron sconces were filled with smouldering candles and seemed imposing as they loomed overhead. Heaps of paper and card that consisted of requests from Siblings, bill transfers and fan mail scattered the surface of an elaborate bureau – which was found at the very centre of the long, spacious room and appeared to be the only new addition to the old-fashioned office – and obscured most of the floor from view. Faded silk drapes hung from crooked beams that supported the tall ceiling, framing the anti-pope’s ox-blood leather armchair – which was snugly located behind the bureau - with a subdued backdrop of navy blue that complemented his decorative robes rather well.

After the embarrassing drunken shambles that was his wine-fuelled  _sexting_ the night prior, Papa was eager to lose himself in his work so that he didn’t have to dwell on his actions. It was early afternoon and he’d already spent most of the day slaving away behind his desk. He was stubbornly set on avoiding the Ministry’s corridors because he was convinced that there was a chance he would bump into Miss Vial... he wouldn’t have been able to hide his squirm as he became victim to her cold, unimpressed gaze. And he definitely didn’t want his subordinates noticing such a thing... he’d worked incredibly hard since his ascension. He’d managed to persuade and reassure many now that he was the embodiment of their faith, and on top of that, he’d also managed to gain their eyes, ears and most importantly, their trust. His subordinates wouldn’t have been impressed if they’d seen him crumble and fall due to the  _resident alchemist._ All of his efforts would have gone to waste... and he would have never lived it down. Therefore, he was confidently content with his avoidance  _and_ his work, for once.

A golden set of thin reading glasses clutched to the bridge of his nose as he slumped forwards in his armchair, hovering himself over a splay of important forms. His quill scratches were nimbly faint and occasional as he trailed his mismatched eyes over the lines of text in front of him. It was the first day he’d actually found his paperwork duties fairly easy to focus on, and he was quite thankful because he’d accumulated quite a lot over the months, so the more he slogged through, the better. He let out a little sigh every so often and carefully dipped the nib of his quill into an inkwell that was located to the right of the desk, cautiously escorting it back down until the end rested over the paper below. 

He continued to work, even when the door to his office slowly creaked open, oblivious to the elegant strides of a strapping chrome-masked Ghoul that had entered. After reaching the centre of the room, the Ghoul came to a gentle stop in front of the bureau. And then he bowed, regardless of his master’s obliviousness, effortlessly balancing a thin black tray – which happened to be supporting a steaming hot cup of caramel-topped mocha – over the splayed fingers of his left hand. Carefully stooping downwards, he set the hot drink down, ensuring it lined up with a collection of faded coffee rings that stained a thick stack of papers beside the inkwell.

After completing his task, he clutched the empty tray to his chest. Then he smoothly – and  _silently_ – spun around to face the door, lowering his head in respect of whoever was now stood there. With his free hand, he beckoned them like he was encouraging them to enter and once a few timid little footsteps thumped over the paper-clad floor, the Ghoul turned again, obediently pulling out one of two weathered leather armchairs that were situated on the opposite side of the bureau to Papa. Once the considerably smaller sister managed to anxiously shuffle onto the armchair, the Ghoul bowed his head again and pushed the chair closer.

Copia hadn’t so much as lifted his head, and though he continued to read and murmur to himself, he briefly raised a grateful gloved hand to acknowledge the Ghoul’s polite actions like he had witnessed the entire exchange. When he lowered his hand back down to settle over the desk, the Ghoul immediately hurried off, gently closing the door after himself to leave Papa and the small sister in peace.

From her slight size and immaculate black habit, it was clear that the sister was one of the new, fresh-faced teenagers that had only recently arrived at the Ministry in the past few months. She sat in the chair stiffly and glared her wide hazel eyes into the paper-strewn floor beneath her feet. She acted like she was sat in front a school principal and swallowed nervously, subtly wringing her hands together. She was thankful that Papa appeared to be caught up in his work and she actually wished that he continued to ignore her presence... as much as the man had been reassuring, supportive and ever so kind to her since she had known him, his powerful position and rat-paint made her feel anxiously unsettled.

“Hello there, Manon.” he suddenly spoke in a somewhat kind but distant tone. She was surprised that he knew she was present and awkwardly shuffled over the armchair, nervously readjusting the thin cowl that covered her short stringy ginger hair. “Sister Livia was very concerned for you when I spoke to her this morning. You have been missing her classes, what’s up with that?”

Manon’s cheeks reddened and she gulped, defiantly squeezing her eyes shut. She had known why she had been summoned to Papa’s office before she had even set foot in there, and she loathed the situation entirely. She felt ridiculous and pathetic... she knew that Papa had far worse problems to deal with compared to her. She couldn’t understand why he was so interested in her voicing her issues, but then Manon had never understood how to think things over. She seemed to overlook the fact that the menacing-looking Papa sat opposite her was the same man that had saved her from a living hell nine months prior...

“ _You don’t want to talk about that.._. _okie dokie.”_ he mumbled with a light sigh, gently setting his quill over a visible bit of desk space that was poking out from a scatter of half-finished documents. “What have you been learning in her classes anyways? She comes across... kind of... _eh..._ boring. I am always very afraid I will start snoring when I talk to her one day...”

His words seemed to ease her slightly because she relaxed her shoulders and she timidly let out a breathy chuckle. He raised his head from his desk and though he didn’t smile, he peered at her through the lenses of his reading glasses, his crow's-feet crinkling in amusement. Her head was still lowered in avoidance and he masked a huff of slight frustration.

“W-We learn biology.” Manon murmured nervously, her cheeks reddening now that she was certain she had his attention.

“ _Biology,_ huh? Well that’s fucking _cool..._ a shame you got someone so _shitty_ teaching you. I guess I could always give her a few pointers to liven up the lessons.” he joked, lowering his eyes to focus on his hot cup of coffee. He seized hold of the cup and dipped his head down, bringing the rim to his lips so that he could take a loud, satisfying slurp.

“But somehow... I do not think Sister Livia would be very happy about the idea of teaching the biology involved in _necromancy... heh heh.”_ he added impishly in a strained whisper, closing his eyes when he took another loud sip. “Is that why you didn’t show at her classes this past week? She makes you feel sleepy?”

“I-I do not feel... safe.” she anxiously admitted, her voice only just audible because she had her chin tucked into her chest. Papa’s armchair creaked as he sat up straight, her words instantly seizing his casual demeanour away from him. His expression became stern and he squinted his eyes at the surface of his desk when he raised the edge of his coffee cup to his lips again. Once he had taken another warm sip, he smoothly lowered the drink to the bureau, his eyes softening when they settled upon the trembling twelve-year-old, who was still purposely avoiding his mismatched stare.

"You do not feel safe here?" Copia asked in a slightly saddened tone, searching her hooded face for a slither of reaction. Concern plainly swept over his features and his heart seemed to beat behind his eyes as he rested his gloved hands over his desk, threading his leather-clad fingers together, his ears prickled in preparation of her answer. She replied by shaking her head, bashfully raising her gaze until she managed to nervously look at him. Sensing she was a little uncomfortable in his presence, he immediately averted his stare and latched a hand around his cup of coffee, focusing on the swirl of cream and caramel that had sunk into the surface. He huffed out in disheartened disappointment due to her response and she winced, assuming that she had perhaps upset him by voicing her opinion. 

She suddenly wished she’d never allowed the Ghoul to escort her there... in fact, even if she had, it wouldn’t have been that bad if she’d  _refused_ to enter Papa’s office. If she’d had the confidence to approach someone else to listen to her instead, like one of the many patient sisters, one of the youthful priests like Father Ramio or... even an outsider like Miss Vial, she would have been able to avoid the dilemma of speaking directly to Papa. Earlier that day, she’d considered skipping a few classes to visit the apothecary, in the hopes that she would be able to vent to Miss Vial, but as much as Manon admired the woman, fear had prevented her from doing so. She was convinced that the alchemist had forgotten about her, and now that Miss Vial had seemingly embraced  _insurrection_ and blatantly displayed her attitude and disregard for the rules by confidently striding around the Ministry’s corridors with a blazing cigarette perched between her lips... passing by her in a fleeting moment had made Manon feel slightly intimidated.

"I can assure you that it  _is_ safe here.” Copia spoke softly, pausing to take another sip of his mocha as he inspected the distant concern in Manon’s glossy hazel eyes. “There is nothing for you to worry about. Sure, some...  _nasty_ shit happens every now and then... but it’s cool, nothing we can't deal with. And if you feel you have a problem  _\- aaaany_ problem at all -  you let me know and I will try my best to help you, ok? Think of the Ministry as... a  _shelter._ And it is  _your_ shelter as much as it is  _mine._ Just because I wear this spooky paint, sit on a big chair and tell a lot of peoples what to do... it doesn't mean I'm  _special..._ or  _untouchable,_ you know? The Ministry protects me very much. And I am very thankful for that. And because you are also under this roof... I have to make sure you’re ok too."

"But  _M-Miss Vial!_ W-What about Miss Vial?" Manon blurted out like she had been desperate to ask such a thing for quite some time. 

Her petite tanned hands began to tremble, and the abrupt mention of Miss Vial’s name caused Copia’s coffee cup to slip out of his grip until it densely slammed onto the paper-clad surface of the bureau beneath it. He furrowed his brow in bewilderment, averting his glaring eyes to the paper he’d been diligently working on. The lines of neat writing he’d recently finished were now smudged completely due to his nervous reflex and he clicked his tongue in annoyance, resting the thick material of his elbows over the mess to ensure Manon didn’t spot his blunder. His heart was now pounding in his ears due to his impulsive reaction, and the mention of Miss Vial’s name had caused an unpleasant wave of blurry, text riddled memories from the night before to haunt him again. Unfortunately he couldn’t rely on the thick white of his rat-paint to hide his  embarrassment , because his pink cheeks were plain to see.

"Ah...  _eh..._ well, of course, the Ministry also protects her too, like it does anyone else.” he eventually replied in the calmest tone he could muster. “If someone is under the Ministry’s roof... it will shelter and guide them down whatever path they have chosen for themselves..."

He let out a deep sigh and his face fell, his wide eyes softening until his expression seemed sombre and serious.

_"... within reason."_ he finished in a dark mutter, the melancholy in his tone unmistakable. He continued to stare down at the surface of his bureau and knitted his eyebrows together like something was troubling him. The gloved hands that had been settled in front of him had now curled into fists as he tried to stop himself feeling disheartened... but the more he tried to resist the darkness of his mind, the more he focused on the events of the night before. As much as he’d acted ridiculously, the longing he’d felt seemed to make its return in that moment. His gloved hands persisted to tighten and he closed his eyes, succumbing to the yearning he felt for Aemelia Vial. He was flooded with a desire to embrace her warm form to his cold self. He could almost see her pallid features beneath his eyelids as he imagined cupping her jaw with his leathery palms. He could almost recall her smouldering scent as he imagined his nose nuzzling into her thick burgundy hair, and he was completely lost to his imaginings once he remembered the feeling of panting out over her soft lips as he nonchalantly kissed them...

_"Papa?"_ Manon’s voice emerged again. She’d been trying to capture his attention for quite some time... and now he’d heard her loud and clear, he cleared his throat, flashing his eyes open like he’d just woken from a vivid dream.

"Why... don’t you feel safe here, Manon?" he asked cautiously, his voice a little muffled due to the fact he was still half-focused on whatever fantasy was playing out in his mind.

"I can't sleep. I have the... the...  _des cauchemars.”_ she explained shyly, returning her gaze to the floor beneath her feet. 

“Hm... ok, ok.” he responded, reluctantly blinking away the last of his daydreams before sitting up straight to listen to her intently. “Bad dreams are not so uncommon here, but they are sometimes... very helpful or important to focus on. Can you remember anything about them? Like... what happens, what is in them?”

“N-Not really.” she squeaked, her teeth clenching slightly. “But I wake up and I am never sleeping in bed. I walk.”

He narrowed his eyes in interest but focused on the sheets of paper scattered across his bureau, not wishing to deter her from talking to him.

“You are... _how old?”_

“Nearly thirteen, y-your Dark Excellency.” she answered, her whole form tensing when he hummed in hesitant thought. His concern was clear due to how sharply he inhaled and once he let out a deep exhale, he lifted his head to gaze at her honestly, not wishing to hide his worry from her any longer.

“You sleepwalk... ok, so where do you find yourself? If you are not in your dormitory when you wake up... where are you? The gardens, the cafeteria, the cathedral... the _undercroft?”_

“ _W-Where?”_

“You walk the hallways at night, no?” he asked in an amiable tone, his mismatched eyes intensely scouring her anxious face. He could tell that she was withholding information from him, but he certainly wasn’t going to pressure her into revealing anything.

“ _N-No.”_

“Hm... _okie dokie.”_ he softly replied with a small smile, though it was clear from the intensity of his eyes that he certainly didn’t believe her. “If these nightmares are a recurring problem for you or you find the sleepwalking starts to lead you to very dangerous places... it has to stop, ok? Maybe you could go see Miss Vial at the apothecary this afternoon. I am sure that she will be able to make something to help you sleep more _soundly,_ ah?"

"I-I can't. Sister Carious would never let me leave my studies to see her." she croaked pitifully, wincing when she timidly met Copia’s stare. His eyes were narrowed and he shook his head in displeasure, and then, he immediately snatched up his quill from the desk, dropping his gaze from her to search the bureau for a fresh piece of parchment.

"Oh _no no no,_ do not worry about that.” he insisted in a hurried, slightly irritated tone. “I will write you a note. It will excuse you for the whole afternoon. You can go see her whenever you like, you just make sure you shove this in Sister Carious’ face, ok?"

_"I-I don't want to go!"_

He winced at her outcry and instantly abandoned his search for fresh parchment, dropping his quill back down into its previous place... oblivious to the large blot of ink that was now pooling out over the document he’d already ruined with smudges. Witnessing the look of anguish on her face, he could only sigh in defeat and he gazed at her astutely, sensing that there was more to her distress than nightmares and sleepwalking.

"Miss Vial... is in your bad dreams?" he asked softly in a wise tone of voice, studying her anxious expression as she fidgeted in her seat and ensured she kept her head low to hide her expression of discomfort. She eventually nodded in agreement and Copia’s expression saddened... and once again, he sighed in defeat.

"Ok, ok... look, how about we make a deal?" he suggested in a more optimistic, approachable tone which caused Manon to slowly prop her head up in glum interest. "Me and _– ehhh -_ Miss Vial and I... _eh..._ we are not exactly on _speaking terms..._ but... I was already kinda... planning on dropping by the apothecary to see her later anyways. So I guess I could... talk to her while I'm there and see if she could make you something that would help. I can even have a Ghoul deliver it to you if she can find you something... it will be _veeeery_ secret, I give you my word. What do you think?"

Manon nodded frantically.

And Copia's eyes gleamed for the first time in months... for he finally had an excuse to visit Miss Vial in person.


	8. Copia’s Convenient Crisis

Ten minutes after Manon had left his presence, Copia had bolted from his desk – golden reading glasses still clutching to his nose - to promptly exit his office, desperate to flee his accumulation of rather important clerical duties to instead complete his new – and far more  _interesting_ \- task. He’d rushed through the Ministry’s hallways with graceful strides, his intricately embroidered royal blue robes gracefully swishing above the stone floor as he went. He had yearned for a valid reason to converse with Aemelia Vial, and it seemed that Satan had actually decided to  _listen_ to his pleading wishes for once... there was no way he was passing up the sudden opportunity he had been given.

Smugly confident about approaching Miss Vial now that he had a couple of convenient excuses, Copia’s pace quickened. He hadn’t felt spry for quite some time and his eagerness was on display to his subordinates, who seemingly didn’t exist to him. Each Sibling of Sin that he passed silently shuffled to the walls of the hallways to ensure that they were out of his way, and most cloaked individuals wore frowns of confusion. Papa rarely navigated the sprawl of corridors without a congregation surrounding him and his sole presence was drawing a lot of attention... attention that he chose to ignore.

Beneath his purposeful strides and his authoritative – yet  _excitable_ \- demeanour, he was silently apprehensive. He hoped that Miss Vial wouldn’t bring up the topic of his drunken texts from the night before... he supposed that if she did, he would just have to  _embrace_ his embarrassment or  _deny that it ever happened._ Naturally, being comfortably arrogant, he was leaning towards the latter.

His anxious thoughts were cut short as he glided through the end of the parted sea of whispering Siblings, and he stepped into the dim threshold of the older complex. A small relieved smile touched his painted lips as soon as he headed further away from the busier corridors, and he found his imposing surroundings oddly comforting, even if they were stern stone walls and flickering fire torches. He slowed down when the walls began to shrink in on him and carefully pressed on, swivelling around to side-step through the narrow corridors, hoping to avoid scraping his expensive papal robes. When he cautiously neared his destination, he swallowed thickly because his heart had started to simmer. 

He may have been confident that he finally had a reason to see the alchemist, but it suddenly dawned on him that he had no idea what he was supposed to say to her. He couldn’t exactly speak to her like he used to. After all, he hadn’t said a  _word_ to her for over half a year. He had so much he wanted to talk about but it was hardly an appropriate time to do so, given the amount of time that had passed and his current position being the leader of the Clergy. Despite the unsettling nervousness he felt, he decided that he would simply have to  _improvise._

After passing his old office - which was still crudely boarded up and chained to prevent anyone from entering – he expelled a heavy sigh and refrained from jogging the rest of the way. His heart pounded in his ears, urging that he raised his pace, but he resisted his excitement. He certainly didn’t want to end up bumping into anyone in the darkness... even though such a thing was rather unlikely - nobody chose to walk the hallways of the old complex anymore.

Soon, after walking at a painfully slow pace through the rest of the narrow passageway, Copia was nearing the apothecary. The closer the door became, the more he could hear the comforting confirmation of her presence. The welcome sound of  sizzling and bubbling was both nostalgic and gut-wrenching for him and he came to a gentle stop by the door, nervously peering down at the ground beneath his feet. The fact that Aemelia Vial was  _definitely_ present on the other side of the door before his very eyes made him unbelievably nervous... but he composed himself by inhaling sharply and lifting his head. He narrowed his eyes at the wood in front of him and confidently raised his chin, pressing a leather-clad hand against the heavily varnished surface of the door. 

To his surprise, the door hadn’t been fully closed and it started to swiftly creak open as a consequence, revealing the contents of the small room to him. His apprehensive gaze shifted back to the ground below and he took a deep breath before gracefully entering, ensuring he ducked down a little to avoid damaging his mitre. He resisted raising his mismatched gaze to study his fresh surroundings and instead slowly spun around to quietly shut the door behind himself. He ensured the door was closed properly this time, and actually considered drawing one of the metal bolts across as a precaution – he wanted to make sure that no one else decided to poke their noses into his business – but he realised that his actions would probably give off the wrong impression to Miss Vial, so he decided to abandon barring the door shut.

Once he smoothly spun back around, the scent of cigarette smoke hit him plainly and he wore a subtle smile, cautiously stepping into the centre of the room. He paused there for a moment and trailed his eyes upwards... but shied away from resting his gaze upon the alchemy station, and instead, casually trailed his eyes towards the shrine located to the right of the door. He was quite surprised that it was still in place and burning away, he’d expected her to  remove it from the apothecary entirely. The fact that Miss Vial simply allowed it to exist meant a lot to him... his smile broadened, but it didn’t linger for long.

He swallowed back his feelings of warmth and cleared his throat. He stood hesitantly, his mismatched eyes lowering to the ground despite his apprehensive curiosity. He yearned to gaze at her, but he knew that the intensity of Miss Vial’s stare would likely make him tremble uncontrollably. 

Hearing the distracting sound of his shoes as he nervously shuffled from foot to foot, Miss Vial stilled immediately. Her obsidian irises were callous and indifferent as they flicked upwards to brazenly settle on his glittering presence, and she pursed her mouth into a stern line, a fuming cigarette managing to clutch to the right side of her mouth. She was undeniably irked by his presence, but she stayed silent and continued to work like the anti-pope wasn’t there at all. Her slender hands were occupied, each one wrapped around a thick glass tube containing two vibrant mixtures, and she carefully tipped the contents of both vials into a shallow iron mixing vat, which was on a low simmer over the flames of the alchemy station’s fire pit.

She stared at him for most of the momentous silence, but as soon as his eyes glinted, she knew that he was about to meet her gaze with his own and she brashly tore her attention away from him, focusing on her current task like she had never noticed him. He was silent when he finally studied her, but his anxious breaths were long and audible from where she was stood. He was quietly in awe of her existence and he was thankful that her dark eyes weren’t glaring back at him... but he could tell that she must have been completely aware of his presence because her pale cheeks had started to glow a faint shade of pink. He let out another thick, shaky breath before parting his lips... his mind had drawn a blank on anything clever or amusing to say in order to break the ice, so he settled on simply greeting her formally, like she was simply another one of the Ministry’s many Siblings... 

But naturally, Aemelia Vial couldn't allow him to have the first word.

"Nice robes.” she began in a hoarse, deadpan tone, carefully setting down the emptied tubes in order to snatch up a couple of hefty glass jars from the surface of the alchemy desk. “I wish I had an excuse to wear a comfy _blanket_ everywhere. Probably not the best idea though, I tend to spill all sorts on me when I’m in here... and I’m guessing those robes weren’t _cheap."_

Copia peered at her with wide, shining eyes, amazed that she had uttered a word to him. His nervous demeanour noticeably eased now that he didn’t have to initiate their interaction and he exhaled deeply. His shoulders relaxed a little and he lightly chuckled, his crow's-feet crinkling under the thick rat-paint.

"Yes, they were a little... _pricey_. But they were worth it, no? They are sleek, sexy and  _very_ cosy, heh heh.” he eagerly replied, lifting his arms to elaborately extend out his vestment so that he could show it off to her. She sighed and reluctantly raised her eyes to acknowledge him, raising an unimpressed brow at his golden reading glasses and the soiled, inky sleeves of his robes.

“You’re an _angel_ away from being a fuckin’ _Christmas tree...”_ she muttered, shaking her head in subdued amusement. She wore a subtle smile and sprinkled a small amount of the jars’ contents into the simmering mixing vat before clapping on their lids. When she set both jars down to gently stir the steaming mixing pot, he relaxed his arms, swallowed back his apprehension, and rested his gaze on her actions. He did so swiftly before he became lost in her pallid features and fiery maroon plaits... it was far too tempting to succumb to his attraction towards her, but he was just about resisting for the time being.

"You took your sweet arse time." Aemelia suddenly stated in a stern tone, withdrawing her stirring stick from the mixing vat to allow the new concoction to bubble for a bit. Her single curt sentence caused the atmosphere between them to shift entirely and his shoulders tensed. He’d sensed venom in her words and decided to stare at the floor again, avoiding her intense charcoal irises, which were no doubt drilling into him. Despite the return of his anxiety, he bashfully shuffled himself forwards until he was stood completely opposite her, his extravagant embroidered robes grazing the cold edge of the alchemy station.

"Eh... yes, I... eh..." he quietly stuttered, his eyebrows knitting together as he continued to glare his mismatched eyes into the unforgiving stone floor. His verbal hesitations swiftly trailed off before he could continue and he stilled, allowing his hesitation to physically freeze him instead. He was incredibly still for quite some time before he eventually blinked out of his strange trance, expelling out a deep sigh of frustration.

"It is difficult to find the words right now...” he finally replied in a small voice, continuing to nervously stare at the ground. “I am... overwhelmed by your presence... it is  _dazzling_ me. I am finding it hard to believe you are right here... in front of me, after all of this time. You... left m – here a little while ago, you know?”

After a few seconds of silence, he timidly raised his head and his wide eyes met hers momentarily. Her obsidian irises were just as he’d remembered: shadowy, fearless and  impervious. She looked bewildered having heard his words, but he could see reluctance plainly in her gaze... it was clear that she was holding her tongue. He never wanted her to stop staring back at him, but her eyes soon shifted away from him, and eventually, she turned around to face away from him entirely. He winced slightly as he trailed his gaze over the back of her head and quietly began to study the rest of her with such melancholic yearning.

"I know that it might  _feel_ like I  never left...” she softly said, her voice lightly echoing off of the thick stone walls as she gathered up some fresh containers from the cluttered sill of the stain-glass window. “... but you know that it can’t be like it was between us. You have your big boots on now. You made it. You finally got what you always wanted... you’re the fuckin’  _pope.”_

There was a brief pause and she swivelled back around to face him, two immaculate vials tucked snugly between her fingers. She confidently met his stare again, taking the time to inspect the thick skull-paint coating his weathered features.

“And popes don’t just stand in apothecaries like timid little _mice._ They make decisions or talk or... fuckin’ do _something,_ at least.” she continued in slight annoyance, searching his startled face with her hardened eyes. He swiftly cleared his throat again and nodded frantically, standing to attention like he was suddenly remembering the position he held now that he was under her scrutinising gaze.

"You know what... you are  _completely_ right, Miss Vial. That is why we will no longer linger on the topic of my work. It has been quite a while since we...  _talked,_ so I think it would be cool if we could catch u - “

“So you’re not counting the endless walls of texts, missed calls or those _dreadful_ voice mails you left the other night? None of that was _talking?”_ she questioned bluntly, scolding him with her impassive stare. Her stern expression made him want to squirm but all he could do was stand stiffly and squeak out a quiet, high-pitched _“Ahhhhhhm”_ of uncomfortable hesitation. Suddenly his arrogant plan of denying it ever occurred didn’t seem like such a good idea...

“I don’t blame you for not counting all of that to be fair.” she continued in a grumble, dropping her expressionless gaze to briefly check on the simmering vat of lilac liquid. “It was hardly a _talk_ anyway... considering it was mostly you nattering on about how... _what was it again?_ How you wanted me to _visit your quarters_ because I was _sexy?”_

“But... you _are.”_ Copia reluctantly replied in a quiet tone, which caused her dark eyes to settle on him again. “I mean to say... you look good. _Very_ good. Leaving here for a little while seems to have done you... _very good,_ you know?”

Aemelia squinted at him in suspicion and she leaned backwards just as he was tipping himself forwards. He peered his gleaming, mismatched eyes at her over the warm wisps of ashen steam rising up from the searing metal of the mixing pot. She sternly held his stare, regardless of his peculiar actions, even when he began to lean further forwards, slowly closing the cluttered desk-space between them. And once he had neared her enough, he closed his eyes and tilted his head, sniffing loudly like he was eagerly inhaling her scent. 

“You _smell_ good too.” he whispered, unable to conceal an amused smirk as he carefully toppled back onto his heels. Once he opened his eyes, he was met with the steely sight of her standing and glaring at him from across the table. She had her arms crossed over her chest and she was shaking her head in disapproval of his actions... and it caused him to blush profusely. His gloved hands – which were now trembling slightly - nervously smoothed down the front of his twinkling attire and he awkwardly cleared his throat, deciding that it was probably best to forget what had just happened.

_"Ehhh..._ anywaaaaays, I expect you are wondering why I have decided to visit you today - "

"Oh I don't know... you probably  _want_ something from me. Fuckin' typical." she bitterly interrupted through clenched teeth, abandoning her stance of disapproval to swipe up a clean piece of equipment from the desk in front of her. She cautiously lowered the thin glass pipette into the frothing lilac potion and focused on her task, cautiously sucking up concentrated amounts of warm droplets. Copia swallowed nervously and fumbled his leather palms together, not really knowing how to respond. She could see him squirming in her peripheral vision but continued to focus on her important task, rolling her eyes. 

"If you have something to say,  _spit it out,_ Copia. If the suspense lasts any longer I'll end up dropping something." she curtly quipped, wrapping her free hand around one of the fresh vials to firmly hold it in place of over the desk’s surface.

_"Ah shit..._ of course, of course!” he exclaimed, gesturing a rueful hand towards her. “My... ah... apologies, Miss Vial. I will...  _crack the fuck on,_ as you say, heh heh..."

"I’m fairly sure that I  _never_ say that..." she murmured beneath her breath, her black eyes settling on the intricate movements of the pipette in her hands, which she was slowly escorting over to one of the clean glass vials.

"So... “ he assuredly began, wringing his hands together now that she was getting on with her work... he wasn’t confident that she was actually listening to him. “... you may recall, from your time here... _eh..._ previously... that I had some trouble sleeping at night...” 

_"Mm-hm."_

"... a-and I was wondering if there was anything you could make to help with that? The insomnia has gotten kinda...  _unbearable_ for me nowadays."

"Your  brothers are still causing you some bother?" she asked simply, a small smirk gracing her plump lips as she comfortably repeated her actions, drawing more lilac droplets out of the hot mixing pot before she gently released them into the fresh vial. "Or has your old dad  _Luci_ ghosted you again and pinned a long, shitty  _timetable_ to the fridge for you while he's away?"

He glared at her, surprised that she was bringing up his best kept secret so freely in an undeniably bitter tone, and swiftly cleared his throat, proceeding to hush her frantically by erratically shaking his gloved hands at her.

"Eh!  _Ehhh! Shhh! Sh!_ I have... a lot of things on my  _dish_ right now, ok?" he exclaimed defensively in a series of strained whispers, leaning forwards so that he could clutch his leathery palms around the thick edge of the alchemy station to hold himself up.

_"Plate,_ you have a lot of things on your  _plate."_ she corrected in a cold, disappointed mumble.

“Sure, sure, _whatever._ You going to help me out, or not?" he questioned in a shrill tone, blatantly displaying a glimpse of his frustration.

"Of course I will. I can't say that the tonic I have in mind will  _cure_ the insomnia, but it will definitely make falling asleep a lot easier for you... if that’s what you’re struggling with." she confidently explained in a professional manner, still too occupied with her work to shoot him an inquisitive glance.

"Cool, cool. That sounds perfect. I will have some Ghouls come pick it up by the end of your shift...  _eh..._ if that is ok with you, Miss Vial?" he asked, admiring her expression of determined concentration with his curious eyes.

"Yeah, that’s fine by me. I’ll make sure I attach some instructions." she mumbled, her voice a little muffled now that she had sunk down slightly to observe her work more closely. 

As she pressed on with her work, an icy silence filled the entire apothecary, and she was comfortably oblivious to the fact Copia was still simply stood there, watching her carefully carry out her actions with an expression of bemusement. After a minute or so, the strange silence was cut short by her clearing her throat and slowly raising her head to face him with narrowed eyes. She’d sensed that he was still staring at her... and she was completely right because his eyes were fixed to hers, even when her gaze became cold and unimpressed. 

"Any particular reason why you're  _still_ here?" she snapped, the spite in her irises easing into stubborn confusion. "Considering you're the  _big man_ now... I'm surprised that you have  _the time_ to stand and do  _fuck all."_

"I am not doing  _fuck all,_ Miss Vial." he shot back in a miffed tone as he uncomfortably fidgeted from foot to foot, expelling a deep sigh of irritation when he clutched his gloved fists to his chest. There was a pause before he said anything more and she dropped her indifferent guard due to the annoyance in his voice, her black irises glinting with the slightest hint of sadness.

"I... I have another request for you... I was just... patiently waiting for your attention to continue talking, you know?" he added in a quieter, softer tone, dragging a gloved hand down his wincing features in slight embarrassment. “Anyways... now I am _– ahem –_ the big man, I have been getting a lot more mail and shit... it has been a real surprise for me. And earlier, I looked through my mail as usual... and today, there was this real spooky looking envelope addressed to Papa _– me,_ you know - and it was covered in these teensy little black webs... _really fucking cool..._ anyways, I opened it and it was an invitation to a festival later this week... they want me to be a guest speaker. I have no clue what a _K_ _illing_ _Sun Festival_ is, but it sounds very interesting... a lil’ _creepy,_ but very interesting. And to be real with you, it has... unsettled me, Miss Vial. Which is why I _had_ to see you today because I... want you to... _eh..._ come along with me. As my plus one."

She narrowed her eyes in contemplation despite how much he had waffled, trying to remember whether she had heard anything about the festival he had mentioned. She scoured through her thoughts but nothing came to mind and she pursed her lips into a curious pout. 

"Hm... well it definitely sounds...  _interesting._ If you’re unsettled about going then you could always just... refuse the invite. Say you’re  _busy_ or something.” she reasoned in a reassuring tone, carefully setting down her pipette now that both of the stylish vials were filled to the brim with lilac fluid. He let out a quiet squeak of nervous hesitation and suddenly shrugged when she averted her eyes from him again to firmly screw metallic caps onto the ends of the lilac tubes. 

“ _Ahm..._ unfortunately, I am not so sure that I can refuse, _heh heh.”_ he anxiously admitted, furrowing his brows while he uncomfortably glared at the ground. “I am expected to appear there... I am _literally_ already on the fucking bill. The invitation arrived a couple months late and because I did not reply early enough... I can’t get out of this shit now. I _have_ to go, or I will look fucking _stupid,_ you know?”

“Right, well... in that case, maybe you should head there alone. I’m really not sure that me coming along with you would _help_ in any way.” she grumbled before letting out a disgruntled sigh. “I'm only just settling here again and it would look suspicious as fuck if I - "

_"The hotels are already booked for the week."_ Copia blurted out, causing her to abruptly shut her mouth. _"The flights to Vegas too._ _Even the rental car. All of it... booked.”_

She promptly – and loudly – dropped the finished vials onto the desk’s surface to glare at him in astonishment. Her hands balled into fists by her sides and she inhaled sharply, tilting her head like she was trying to make sense of what her ears had just heard. 

"You cheeky fuckin' _bastard._ You hadn’t so much as _breathed_ in my ear, yet you felt that _you_ had the _authority_ to make a decision for me?!” she growled through clenched teeth, the look of offended disbelief on her face causing the corners of his mouth to twitch with amusement. “And hold the fuck on... did you say _Vegas,_ or I am fuckin’ _deaf?!_ I can’t just drop everything and head to _the states..._ I’ve got shit to – _oh, you fucker._ No wonder I couldn’t find my fuckin’ passport the last few days. You didn’t receive that invite this morning _at all._ You scheming little... _rat.”_

"Yes, it was... needed for the  _admin_ and such.” he confessed with a regretful sigh, though his mismatched eyes were swimming with undeniable mirth. “I was kinda disappointed you renewed it recently...  _hot photo though_ –  _ahem_ – anyways, I had to ensure that you would be coming with me, Miss Vial. As  _Papa_ I am unable to go places myself, I have to have a chauffeur...  _no, no..._ a  _chaperone_ to make sure I am kept very safe at all times.”

“Then take some fucking _Ghouls_ with you. They’re pretty _solid_ when it comes to being _body guards,_ trust m - “

“No, no. I cannot do that.” he retorted confidently, dramatically waving a gloved hand in dismissal. “You are far more reliable and sensible... and _eh..._ professional. You would definitely represent the Ministry in a way that I would prefer... the Ghouls have gotten quite... _eh..._ destructive since you last saw them, you know? They are constantly _in heat,_ and I couldn’t have them misbehaving like that in front of strangers, that would look shitty. _Especially_ if those strangers were open to the idea of Satan... our conversion numbers are already dwindling as it is.”

He paused for a moment and bashfully reached up to smooth back his hair... but naturally, his tall mitre was in the way. He emitted a deep breath and awkwardly lowered his arm down to idly swing it by his side instead. He shyly raised his head and slowly met Aemelia’s silent expression of shock... it seemed that she was so surprised by the situation that she had no idea how to react. 

“Also... you drive _much_ better than they do. I don’t get so motion sick.” he muttered, a slither of guilt present in his eyes as he slowly studied her alarmed features. “So... you were the only candidate I had in mind to be my plus one. You have a _veeery_ good resume... I cannot ignore that.”

A confused scowl joined her blank, wide-eyed expression and she set her jaw, grudgingly parting her lips to speak.

“So, when is this shit happening then?” she grumbled, draping her arms across her chest to cross them over in a strict manner. “I need to know when to start packing. At the end of the week, next month... _when?”_

“We leave here tomorrow for our early morning flight.” Copia stated in an optimistic tone of voice, wearing a small smile when she glared and firmly clamped her mouth shut. “The event is held kinda in the middle of nowhere, so it will be a couple days drive before we get there... I will text you the in depth... eh... _deets,_ later, ok? Just finish up here and get yourself ready for tomorrow, ah? Don’t worry about your tasks, getting ready for tomorrow is _waaay_ more important to me.”

“You’re not kidding me at all, are you?” she asked in an empty, distant register, her charcoal eyes faltering as she searched his face for any sign of trickery... she only found amused honesty in his glinting eyes instead.

“Of course not, Miss Vial.” he replied sincerely, seriousness replacing his faint amusement. “I never planned on this shit being so _rushed..._ but... like I said, I only found out like... an _hour_ ago and I can’t get out of this festival appearance. I really don’t want to seem like a _killjoy_ if I pull a no-show so... this is why we have to react accordingly.”

Before she could open her mouth to retort, he turned his back on her and swiftly shuffled forwards, already making his way towards the exit, robes and mitre-tails trailing behind him. She couldn’t take her shocked eyes away from him and she looked even more bewildered once he paused in his tracks to acknowledge her by slowly peering at her over his left shoulder.

“Oh and one more thing before I go...” he added, his voice suddenly rich and hoarse. “... thank you for keeping my shrine. It really means a lot to me, you know?”

He let out a grateful breathy chuckle and turned his head away from her, focusing on the apothecary door with a faint smirk, “I’m looking forward to working with you again, very, _veeery_ much...  _message you later.”_


	9. Infuriating Habits

The next day, Aemelia Vial wished she’d never bothered returning the Ministry. She had no idea what she thought she had missed, and she was baffled how she had forgotten the _nightmare_ that Copia could be. Although it had all started the day prior with him making her attendance to a _so-called_ business trip _compulsory_ instead of allowing her to have a choice in the matter, the beginning of their journey to the states hadn’t been so bad. Their first short flight had been early in the morning and she’d been thankful that they hadn’t found the energy to interact with each other at all – neither of them were _morning people_ \- but as soon as they landed in the next airport, it was like flicking on a switch. And suddenly, Copia became the most arrogant, infuriating man to walk the Earth... and she had no way out of the situation. She simply had to _tolerate_ the frustrating anti-pope’s antics for the next _thirteen hours._ She certainly couldn’t avoid him when she was going to be trapped on an airplane flight with him snugly strapped into the seat beside her...

After a cringe-inducing interaction between Copia and a rather buxom woman behind the airport’s check-in desk, Aemelia briskly stormed off, clutching their freshly printed boarding passes to her chest with a deadpan expression. She could feel the curious eyes of waiting passengers driving into her from the queue behind them and she clenched her teeth together at the hurried clack of Copia’s footsteps behind her. He had to jog to keep up with her and once he managed to catch up to her, he bumped into her right shoulder, which only made her expression darken further.

“ _No..._ surely I did not read that right? Does that say... _economy?!”_ he loudly questioned, peering his conflicting irises over her right shoulder so that he could read the boarding passes for himself... he was immensely pleased that he had an excuse to stare down at her chest but he masked his smug feelings with an expression of innocence. “I _definitely_ remember selecting the _other_ option. I guess... a finger must have slipped.”

“What did you book this flight on, a fucking _tamagotchi?”_ she snapped emptily, nudging his side with her elbow. He cleared his throat and obliged her wishes, allowing a larger gap to form between the two of them.

“A tama- _what?_ No no, I had one of my Ghouls do it for me. I just... _pointed at my phone_ and they sorted it all, you know?” he explained casually, matching the authoritative speed of her strides. “Kinda pissed that we can’t change that shit now... _ah well,_ I guess I will have to have words with the Ghoul once we get back home. If you get backache or... feel any little uncomfy _bumps_ in the seaties, tell me straight away, ok? Our discomfort is on _him,_ so I need to take everything into account before he is punished.”

“I think _you’re_ the one that needs punishing.” she grumbled in a bitter tone, gritting her teeth at the subtle creak of his black leather tailcoat as he walked alongside her. “What fucking _madman_ lets a _Ghoul_ arrange a _holiday_ for them?!”

“ _Eh!_ Now, now, Miss Vial. You know this is no _vacation.”_ he promptly replied in an insistent manner, wildly gesturing his gloved hands. “This is a... _business trip..._ nothing more.”

His mismatched eyes widened now that he could feel the glares of other passengers settling on the two of them. It was enough that the two of them stuck out like two gloomy sore-thumbs without her ragging on at him. But of course, he would never understand why she was so annoyed by his behaviour, or the situation... she felt he was playing her for a fool, because she already knew _full well_ that it wasn’t just a simple _business trip._

* * *

As soon as the belt symbol above their heads faded out with a soft _bong_ sound, Copia immediately unclipped his seat-belt, letting out an over-dramatic sigh of relief. Aemelia tried her best to ignore him and tapped the modest touch-screen monitor built into the chair in front of her, desperate to find something to watch before she took any notice of him. Unfortunately, as she began to flick through the long list of available films, she paid too much attention to her peripheral vision and she froze in place, yet again annoyed by the actions of the anti-pope sat in the seat beside her.

Their elbows bumped as he messed with the various dials on the arms of his chair, clearly attempting to work out the purpose of each one. Most of them appeared to readjust the angle of his seat and he hummed highly in subdued comprehension, and then continued to toggle them, the creak of his leather tailcoat and gloves really starting to grate on everyone else’s ears. Before long, the chair abruptly tipped backwards and his eyes widened into saucers... he fumbled with the dials, hoping that he could revert the chair into a more upright position, but it appeared to be stuck and eventually, he gave up, huffing out a deep breath of disappointment.

For a while after that, he was fairly still, and it was clear from how much he laid his head back that he was warming to the new position of the seat... although he was completely unaware of the expression of disgruntled disgust on the passenger’s face behind him and the deep set scowl over Aemelia’s brow due to his previous fidgeting. He rested his head on the small cushioned head-rest behind him and without moving a muscle, he cautiously trailed his mismatched eyes towards the wine-haired woman sat beside him, who was still scrolling through the screen’s list of TV shows and movies with an unmoving stare. His irises seemed to soften as he studied her and he tilted his head in hopeful expectation, following the messy strands of burgundy hair that draped by the sides of her pallid face. He watched her intently for a couple of minutes, and she didn’t appear to notice him at all now that he was quiet, for when she abandoned her search for entertainment, she swiped up a novel she’d had perched over her legs instead. She rested it on the mini-table hovering over her lap and opened it up at a page she’d bookmarked with a wad of folded dollar bills.

Then she proceeded to shuffle over her seat, and after stubbornly pulling down the oblong window blind to her right, she finally began to contentedly read the lines on the pages before her, trying to immerse herself in the book as much as possible to drown out the loud murmurs of the chattering passengers sat around her. She squinted her black eyes in concentration and her look of focus caused Copia to slowly sink further down into his seat, his eyes lingering on the tips of her fingers whenever she smoothly turned a page. And when she occasionally traced the lines of text with the edges of her glossy obsidian fingernails, his mouth parted slightly so that he could let out a shallow, shuddering exhale. After a while, his mind began to wander off into all sorts of carnal fantasies and before long, he had to force himself forwards to tightly close his legs together.

And because of the new position his legs were in, his feet turned outwards slightly and this caused the tips of his shoes to jam into the space beneath the chair in front of him. When he eventually tried to wiggle his feet free, he glared in horrified realisation, trying his best to snag his shoes away from whatever had caught hold of them... but it was no use. His winkle-pickers were completely stuck in the dim, sticky unknown beneath the chair before him no matter how much he jiggled his legs about. He flicked his mismatched eyes nervously between Aemelia and a stranger that was sat in the aisle-seat to his left, hoping that one of them would notice his visible distress. Unfortunately, _both of them were occupied._ Aemelia was now deeply focused on the pages in front of her, and the man beside him had passed out some time ago... he didn’t want to disturb either of them.

After anxiously looking between the two people he was sat next to, Copia eventually emitted a tiny little squeak of concern and could no longer stand the situation. He leaned closer to Aemelia and with a wince, reached across to frantically tap her shoulder. An irked scowl etched its way onto her brow and she reluctantly lifted her head, tilting her face to the side in order to squint her annoyed black eyes at him.

_"Ahm..._ I need... a little _help..._ eh... _down there..."_ he murmured in a timid voice, his wide eyes following the gesture of his glove, which motioned towards the darkness surrounding his ankles.

"I’m not interacting with _anything_ below your waist, Copia." she calmly replied in a hushed tone, raising a brow before she returned her gaze to her book.

"Ah! _But my shoes are..._ the tips are _stuck,_ Miss Vial! And I gotta piss real soon. I don’t want to _bust my load_ here, you know?!" he exclaimed in a strained string of panicked whispers and she huffed in defeat, marking her page with the wad of thin dollar bills before she loudly snapped the book shut. Then she briskly unclipped her seat-belt and let out a subdued grunt of irritation as she leaned to her left, cautiously angling her front over his lap so that she could firmly grapple her hands around his ankles. The brush of her blazer and waistcoat over his thighs as she tried to free his shoes caused his cheeks to flush and his form suddenly became awfully relaxed. He slouched back in his seat and parted his legs slightly, quietly humming in appreciation when her elbows grazed the material covering his legs.

As she continued to wrestle with his winkle-pickers, her actions caused him to let out persistent grunts of effort as he tried to move his feet along with her hands. Due to the strange sounds of effort coming from their row, most of the passengers on the surrounding aisles shot their confused gazes towards them, assuming from Copia’s sounds and Aemelia’s head of burgundy hair that was hovering just above his lap... that something _salacious_ and _untoward_ was going on. However, both Copia and Vial were oblivious to the assumptions and the prying eyes, too concerned with the state of his shoes.

She pulled and pulled at his ankles, hoping that her attempts would eventually set him free, but his feet didn’t budge. Copia shifted upwards, the back of his head thumping against the headrest as he straightened his back, and his actions seemed to loosen the tips of his shoes slightly.

_"Ahhh,_ yes, yes I can feel it alleviating. You are _almost there,_ Miss Vial... wiggle it a little _more,_ ah?” he encouraged, widening his eyes when she yanked at his ankles more aggressively. His eyes continued to grow in size for a few more seconds and the pink over his cheeks became far more prominent as more passengers settled their disgusted eyes on their row of seats.

_"Ohhhhhhh,_ yesssssss! _Theeeere_ we are! _Oh that feels so much better!"_ he gasped when his feet finally fell onto the cabin floor with a satisfying thump, his breaths loud and deep as relief washed over him. He groaned as he rotated his ankles and she shuffled back onto her seat, rolling her eyes in disinterest. She flipped open her book to the place she’d bookmarked and he abruptly launched himself towards her to thank her... but from the shock on his face it was clear he’d underestimated the speed of his actions. He stopped short of accidentally head-butting her and exhaled out onto her left ear.

"I gotta head to the... _little Papa’s_ room now... but thank you very much for the help, Miss Vial. You are very kind to me, I will have to repay you some time, _heh heh.”_ he whispered, and she could practically feel the greasy _sleaze_ of the grateful wink he sent her as she drilled her eyes into the pages of her book, desperate to ignore him now that she could feel his hot breath on the skin of her ear. To her relief, he swiftly backed away from her but only so that he could nimbly prise himself out of his seat.

It must have taken him at least five minutes to actually slip out into the main aisle – he hadn’t wanted to wake the man that was sleeping beside him so he’d been especially slow slipping by him – and Aemelia was immensely content when he eventually bounded in the direction of the restroom, sighing now that she managed to have a little bit of time to herself. Those ten minutes he was away were precious and she relaxed over her seat, a small smile of contentment on her mouth as she leaned her elbow onto the flip-table, resting the back of a hand beneath her chin. Her plaits hung either side of her head as she trailed her irises over the lines of text and she was easily lost to the world of a sci-fi novel. She was so lost in fact, that she was completely oblivious to Copia’s return. She didn’t even seem to feel the nudge of his elbow after he’d slumped back into his seat and he soon became disappointed that she was set on ignoring him, so his eyes trailed to the plane’s thin aisles that he’d recently wandered.

It wasn’t long before his rat-paint and intense, gleaming eyes caught the attention of a passing air hostess and he jumped at the chance of getting some refreshments. He tried his very best to draw Aemelia’s attention throughout the entire interaction by nudging her with his elbow, loudly flirting with the hostess and taking an overly long time to set down a small plastic cup of red wine and a generous packet of prawn cocktail potato chips. But she didn’t move a muscle, her eyes were firmly fixed to the pages of the novel. Once the air hostess moved away from their row of seats, he wore a faint amused smirk and raised his plastic cup to his lips to take a long loud slurp, narrowing his eyes at the woman sat beside him.

Starved of Miss Vial’s attention, he finished his sip and carefully set down his cup of wine. And then, once it was out of his grasp, he suddenly decided to slide off his right glove, and as soon as the telling creak of leather reached her ears, Aemelia instantly turned her head towards him, frowning in irritation. Her gaze was hostile as she watched him unsheathe his bare hand and she set her jaw when his finger and thumb began to pincer together. He smirked at her annoyed expression and he abruptly clicked his fingers together, a vivid blue spark of hell-fire snapping into existence.

She huffed and launched forwards, snatching up his discarded glove to throw it at his chest. Her eyes met his wide, amused irises as he feigned a winded breath, clutching the glove to his chest over-dramatically. She shook her head and squinted at him, and all contentment she had experienced in those few minutes, evaporated into non-existence.

Eventually, after he slid his glove back on, he allowed her to return to the comfort of her sci-fi novel and instead, settled on crunching his way through his packet of potato snacks. And as he did so, he began to focus on the reassuring hum of the plane’s engine and the meaningless clamour of passengers around them... and once he became comfortable with the sounds, it didn’t take long for him to start nodding off. It took him a few minutes before he actually succumbed to slumber, but once he did, he lazily slouched in his seat, tipping his head back to allow drawn out snores to escape from his parted mouth. The more he slept, the louder his snores became and soon, Aemelia could no longer focus on the story in front of her. She lightly growled in irritation and reached over to the surface of his flip-table, dipping a hand into the confines of his half-emptied bag of potato crisps. There was a satisfying crackle as she snatched hold of the generous remnants and then, poising her palm out flat in front of her chest, she began to lift up the snack residue with her other hand, holding onto them like she was about to play a game of darts.

She squinted her eyes and focused on the source of his loud snores, carefully practicing her aim by carefully moving her forearm back and forth. And when she was confident with her movement, she finally allowed the potato chip to fly free... and it landed in his partially open mouth. She snorted and picked up another crumbling piece of crispy potato, sufficiently entertained by Copia now that he was fast asleep and effortlessly living as an oblivious snoring basketball hoop.

After his attention-seeking behaviour earlier, it was no wonder that she found it rather amusing later on, when he awoke after an hour or so, wearing a wince of irritation due to the feel of his incredibly sore tongue and dry throat, which was _caked_ in a crispy cluster of potato crumbs...

* * *

Arriving at the airport in the heart of Las Vegas should have been an exciting, intriguing experience, but for Aemelia Vial it was nothing but an _overdue relief._ After their arduous flight had come to an end, they’d been held up at customs for quite some time, so it was clear why her strides abruptly sped up once she could see the signs directing them to the exit. She clutched her leather holdall – which was eerily similar to an old fashioned doctor’s bag - snugly beneath an arm and tightly wrapped her fingers around the handles of Copia’s two black snake-skin suitcases. He’d wanted to assist her with carrying their luggage but she’d swiped them from the luggage carousel before he’d even noticed their existence...

He swiftly trailed behind her but was cautious not to follow her too closely. He could tell from her hasty movements and icy silence that her tolerance had worn thin some time ago... especially now that they could plainly see the arrivals exit in front of them. Stark headlight beams funnelled out from a line of waiting vehicles that were parked over the tarmac outside. The sight only reminded her of how long they had been held up at the airport and she gritted her teeth together, marching a little faster. Her worsening body language caused him to swallow and he finally decided to close the space between them, nervously keeping his gaze on their destination to avoid the possibility of her scolding him with her eyes.

“You... you do not have to walk so fast, you know?” he softly suggested, gulping again when he heard the telling creak of his luggage handles.

“It’s already dark outside. And I have to _drive_ tomorrow, remember?” she shot back without giving him a shred of attention. “So, _excuse me_ for walking fast. I just want to get to our hotel to get some _actual fucking sleep._ We better have separate rooms because you’re doing my fucking head in.”

“ _Ehhh... yeeeah,_ sure, _heh heh!_ Of... of course we do.” he squeaked out nervously, glaring at the scenery ahead of them. “You are... annoyed about the _passport thing?_ I am sorry it took so long, they really do not believe I am _Papa_ sometimes. I guess with the ascension being so recent it - ”

“No. I’m annoyed because you almost got _busted_ for that powder. You do realise I could have been arrested as an _accessory?”_

“ _Ahhh,_ it was _fiiine.”_ he insisted, gesturing a dismissive gloved hand towards her. “I told them it was a _pope thing_ so... you were not implicated at all, ah?”

“How the _fuck_ did you get them to believe that your _suspicious white powder_ was a fuckin’...” she trailed off and let out an exasperated sigh, losing interest now that they were nearing the line of stationary vehicles that were parked outside. “... you know what, _nevermind._ I don’t want to know. I’m too tired for this shit.”

Thankfully, Copia didn’t have time to respond to her. Now that they were trailing the roadside of the bustling terminal, their eyes were too caught up in reading the various signs that were being thrust into their faces by people waiting around for arrivals. All the names on the large pieces of white card were written in thick black marker and each name was completely foreign to them... apart from _one_ sign that was being held up a little further away. From how crumpled the card was, it was clear that it had been held up for quite some time. Aemelia was the first to spot the name being displayed and despite her irritated mood, she managed to let out an amused snort when she realised that the sign read _“Papa Elmeritus”_ in block capitals. However, her amusement quickly disappeared once she studied the man who was clutching it in front of his face. He was dressed in a sharp black suit and dark aviators, but the black baseball-cap that obscured his head didn’t fit in with his outfit at all.

That very observation caused her irritation to rise again as they neared him, and she realised, with a look of subdued horror as they came to a dead stop before him, that he was standing in front of an immaculate white stretch-limousine... _surely_ the vehicle wasn’t for _them?_ Then again, after all the insufferable hours she’d spent with Copia, Aemelia really shouldn’t have been surprised by its presence.

Copia cleared his throat and awkwardly extended a gloved hand out to the man, who abruptly lowered the sign and silently obliged him. Aemelia rolled her eyes and impatiently rounded the two of them, not wishing to hear the exchange between them. She could hear the sound of their voices as she marched away, headed towards the limo’s trunk, but their words may as well have been alien. With a deadpan expression, she thrust up the tail-gate – to her surprise, it was already open – and dumped their luggage inside, expelling out a huff of respite when she eventually slammed the tail-gate down.

And then, once she headed back towards the two men, she stopped dead in her tracks. One of the rear doors was suddenly wide open and neither Copia or the driver was anywhere to be seen. She cautiously approached the open door and with a confused scowl, she dipped down so that she could take a careful look inside. Copia was halfway through shuffling over the backseats and she rolled her eyes, reluctantly hunching down some more to hop inside. She slid onto the closest seat – which unfortunately happened to be right beside him – and immediately clenched her teeth at the scratchy sound of the upholstery. It was part creaky black leather and part obnoxious zebra print. The dramatic, over-the-top style was lavish but seedy, and despite her expression of unimpressed disapproval, she thought it suited Copia rather well.

Aemelia continued to cringe at the gaudy interior and the limo’s engine stuttered into life which prompted her to reach over and close the door on her right. Whilst she ensured the door was firmly in place, Copia was really starting to settle into the setting. The creak of his leather sleeves on the leather upholstery was obvious as he slowly spread his arms across the width of the backseats and he tipped his head back with a thoughtful expression, his legs soon mirroring the actions of his arms. Once Aemelia backed into her seat and rested her spine against the cushioning, Copia raised one of his arms a little so that he could coolly flick a gloved hand towards the rear-view mirror.

The vehicle began to steadily roll away from the curb due to his smooth action and he nodded in approval, relaxing his arms over the seats as he risked a quick glance across his right shoulder to check up on Aemelia. He tilted his head inquisitively, noticing that she was sat unusually stiff. His curiosity quickly turned to concern... he’d hoped that the comfort of a limo would ease the stress of travelling, but to his disappointment, she still seemed to be unsettled.

"You comfortable?" he asked in a barely audible murmur, wincing as his irises explored her pale features, concerned that she was too set on hammering her bloodshot eyes into the fuzzy carpet beneath their feet to return his gaze. "If you are feeling too hot... I can always ask the _driver man_ to bump up the A.C. Or you could always just... take off your coat, or maybe even... a few more clothes to keep you a little more... _chill,_ you know?"

_"I'm fine."_ she grumbled in disinterest, shuffling over her seat slightly until she was a bit more comfy. "I just think a _limo_ is bloody uncalled for."

He also shuffled over his seat, subtly mimicking her movements to inch closer and closer to her left side.

"Ahhh, _c'maaan,_ Miss Vial. Nothing is uncalled for now.” he replied in his usual flippant manner, wearing a small wily smile. “I am _Papa,_ so I have to make sure my presence is at least _felt..._ people may not understand, or even know of me. But this limo is the statement I need, ok? They will know that somebody very, very important is arou - "

"For what... _forty minutes?”_ she retorted emptily, her black eyes frosting over. “ You can't have forty minutes off from your title? You have to flash your dick into everyone's faces at all times? I didn't realise that was in your... _contract_ or whatever it is you've fucking signed.”

_"I..._ have to do _what?"_ he murmured in amazed confusion, searching her unimpressed face with large, hopeful eyes. She huffed gloomily and slowly raised her head, turning herself slightly to reluctantly meet his stare with her impossibly black eyes. The creak of leather was present again as he clenched his gloves over the edge of the seats and he swallowed thickly, resisting the temptation of getting lost in her eyes.

"You _ah..._ want something - _ehhhh_ \- to drink?" he anxiously diverted, suddenly awkwardly stumbling out of his seat to clumsily dart his way towards the limo’s deluxe mini-fridge, which was embedded into the mid-section of seats that were located to the sides of the vehicle.

"The car's still moving, Copia." she stated simply.

_"Ah shush,_ I know, I know! But I... I am real fucking thirsty."

She exhaled loudly and shaded her eyes with a palm, not daring to watch him struggle to stay still. Somehow, he managed to prise open the mini-bar, though after a few cringe-worthy seconds, he fought to keep hold of the items he’d swiped up from its contents. Eventually, after the movement of the car caused the fridge to smack shut, he managed to stagger his way back to her, clutching their bottles of chilled beverages to his chest. Once he arrived, he let out a muffled grunt as he dumped himself onto the seat beside her... and to his stunned surprise, he was sat a lot closer to her than he had planned. Their sleeves brushed and their thighs grazed and his blushing cheeks were imminent. He cautiously moved his leg away from her and the thought of her sturdy legs caused a little squeak to escape his throat... though he just about managed to cover it over with a conveniently gruff cough.

“So...” he began in a high tone, acting like nothing had ever occurred. "... we got Champagne... _for me."_

He abruptly – and to Miss Vial’s relief, _successfully –_ uncorked a half bottle of Champagne. His mismatched eyes quickly followed the trail of the cork as it popped off and landed over the seating located towards the centre of the vehicle. He shrugged and took the bottle in his right glove, swiftly necking down his first small swig before he propped it between his legs, trapping it in place with his thighs. She narrowed her eyes at him as he seized hold of another bottle he’d been clutching to his chest, and her expression seemed to soften slightly when he handed it to her.

_"Coke for you..."_ he murmured, her gaze shifting before he could catch hold of her eyes again. She focused on the boisterous, colourful lights through the window to her right but blindly accepted the bottle of Diet Coke by blindly snatching it from his hand. And just as she began to screw off the lid of the bottle, he cleared his throat and threw a little plastic bag between his palms... he was thankful for whoever had left the little bag of white powder in the fridge.

_"And coke for me too."_ he added beneath his breath, the sound of rustling plastic causing Aemelia to pause her actions. She abruptly turned her head to face him and glared at the small helping of white powder, clawing her slender hands around the cold neck of the glass bottle.

_"Don't you fucking dare.”_ she scolded, raising her voice enough to attract his attention... he peered at her with the most innocent, shiny eyes she had ever seen. “ Did you not learn _anything_ from all those hours we were held up at _customs?!_ If you think I'm going to put up with your _high mug_ for a week... you can _fuck off._ I'll take the first available flight home. All you've done since we left the fucking Ministry is take the absolute _piss,_ so don't start fuckin' adding more shit now. You even think about opening that bag... I'm _gone_. I mean it."

Copia winced, but her scolding eyes easily persuaded him to huff out in defeat. The packet rustled loudly as he reached over to a small panel of buttons below the window to his left. The tinted window pane cracked open with a whir and she widened her eyes at him in confusion.

"Ok, ok... " he sighed, casually tossing the small bag out of the window before seamlessly closing it again. She parted her mouth to say something but swiftly decided on silence when he smoothly turned back around to face her with a sincere expression.

"I admit, I have... been relying on that shit a lot more since - "

"Your _promotion?"_ she cut in, tightly clutching the bottle of Diet Coke to her chest to comfort herself.

_"Since you left."_ he confessed in a small voice, causing her expression to soften into something melancholic. "Not that... I am blaming _you_ for it, of course I am not. You... had your reasons to leave, I get it. You regarded our careers and our... friendship higher than I did... so, of course, you were right to leave. I was just... acting really... _fucking_ _stupid,_ heh heh."

His sudden apprehensive demeanour and rather sad confession made her want to explain the truth to him there and then. She wanted to tell him why she’d had to leave. Wanted to tell him how Imperator had backed her into a corner. Wanted to describe to him how she had been ominously pursued by his very own Ghouls... how she had been left buried _\- crushed –_ beneath thick wads of dried soil for months. How she was thankful for the mysterious entity that dwelled within her, for it had shrouded her in a strange protective stasis until she’d found the energy to wake up...

But she couldn’t just off-load such information to him now. Not then, when the two of them were weary from their long-haul flight. Not then, when he’d just admitted he had a slight substance problem in the back of a limousine that was driving through the vibrant streets of Las Vegas...

"Please don't use that shit." she eventually settled on mumbling, wincing as she looked at the carpet below her feet. A searing hiss split through the short silence that fell between them when she abruptly snapped the seal of her bottle’s lid.

_"Experience_ is talking... no?" Copia asked softly, briefly closing his eyes as he tipped his head back to down a more generous helping of his Champagne.

"Yep." she confirmed, pressing the glass bottle to her lips to take her first cold sip of Diet Coke.

"You wanna... talk about it or - ?"

"No, those demons are long gone for me.” she said sincerely after swallowing down her first mouthful. “But they’ve been replaced with other ones, I s’pose. One being the fuckin' _anti-christ._ I’m not sure what’s worse... _the drugs_ or... _you.”_

"Are you... saying that... I am like _drugs?_ I do not understand." Copia asked in a curious tone of voice, unable to resist smirking as he studied her face intently.

"No. I'm saying that... as much as drugs are bad, I can refuse them. But unfortunately, you've made it _impossible_ for me to say no to you."

_"Ohhhh!”_ he exclaimed in over-dramatic realisation, patting the backs of their seats with his free hand. “So it is... almost like... _I seee..._ you are saying you are addicted to _my_ _company_ instead of the drugs?"

"No. I'm saying that you're an evil, manipulative _rat-bag."_ she quietly growled in annoyance, hastily turning her head to shoot him with her indifferent glare.

He clutched the half-bottle of Champagne to his chest and chuckled impishly, suddenly finding himself confident enough to send her a playful wink.

_"Heh, heh..._ well, _sure._ I can be... but only if I really, _reaaally_ want something...”


End file.
